


Clarity

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon, Romance, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-20
Updated: 2004-11-25
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 70,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin settle into their new partnership -- Sequel toAlways.Feedback, both positive and negative, is greatly appreciated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian was nearly as famous for his chronic insomnia as he was for fucking. It was a rare night that he managed more than four or five uninterrupted hours. As a result, he now found himself standing at the large window in Justin’s living room, staring down at the early morning bustle of the garbage trucks, tractor-trailers, and newspaper deliverymen.

He folded his arms across his bare chest, his eyes focusing on the silver band he now wore around his left wrist. Was it a coincidence that it was on his left wrist, or was it symbolic of something much deeper than he had initially realized? He thought back a few hours, as he and Justin lay in bed after spending an hour slowly making love.

“So, does this mean we’re married now?” Justin had asked teasingly, grinning at him as his fingers had traced the pattern engraved on his bracelet.

“No,” Brian had replied quickly, knowing that Justin knew about his reputed animosity toward the concept of marriage and had no desire to further speed up the progression of their relationship. But he couldn’t help himself as he’d continued, “It’s only silver . . . when you get married you’ll be wearing platinum.”

“Is that a promise?”

He hadn’t answered, choosing instead to lean forward and kiss Justin gently before telling the younger man to get some sleep. An hour later, having been unable to sleep himself, he had wandered into the living room. Now, with the sun beginning to rise, the living room was where he remained.

“Brian?”

“Hm?” Turning, he found Justin standing at the end of the hallway leading into the living room. The young man’s hair was sleep-tousled and he wore only a pair of blue and white plaid flannel pajama pants.

“What are you doing up so early?” He crossed the room and, stepping close to Brian, wrapped his arms around the taller man’s waist. He tilted his head back, his blue eyes catching Brian’s hazel ones. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“You’re overanalyzing something.”

“And you know that how?”

“Because when you do, your eyebrows sort of knit together and you get this cute little crease in the middle of your forehead.”

“Christ!” Brian buried his head against Justin’s neck as a deep chuckle erupted from his chest.

“What?”

“There is nothing about me that could be considered cute.” He lifted his head and studied Justin’s smile for a moment before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I disagree. I think there’s a lot about you that could be considered cute.”

“Devilishly handsome, maybe. Stunningly gorgeous, definitely. Cute? Nah.”

“Hm. Well, the way your hair is sticking up right now is cute. And the way you do that little tongue-in-cheek thing is cute.” He leaned forward and lightly licked Brian’s jaw. “And the way you sigh before you fall asleep is cute.”

“All right, all right, enough with the adulation. Let’s just agree that we’re both hot and that we make a devastatingly handsome couple, okay?”

“Okay,” Justin conceded. “So . . . I ask again . . . what’s wrong?”

“You feel cold. Come here.” Brian stepped away from Justin, then took the younger man by the hand and led him over to the couch. Once they were settled and Justin was lying against Brian, their chests touching, Brian reached for the throw on the back of the couch and wrapped it around them. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He ran his hands lightly over Justin’s lower back, then kissed his forehead. “It’s not that anything’s wrong. It’s just that my life is going in a completely different direction from what I’d always expected and from what, eventually, I’d managed to convince myself I wanted.”

“And what do you want?”

“You. Finlay. Gus.” He wrapped his hand around Justin’s left wrist, pressing the silver bracelet lightly against the younger man’s flesh. “Everything.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“It’s not even a problem. It’s just that a lot of changes are taking place, and you know me, I’m a creature of habit. I guess I’m trying to figure out what happens next.” He studied Justin’s lips for a moment, then leaned forward for a soft kiss.

“We just take everything one step at a time. Trust me, the last couple of years have taught me how to deal with the unexpected.” Justin reached forward and ran his fingers lightly over Brian’s early-morning stubble. “I think maybe we just need some time to get used to the changes in our relationship. It _has_ all happened rather quickly.”

“True.” He twined his fingers with Justin’s, then raised his hand and looked at the bracelet on the blonde’s wrist. His eyes had been drawn to the glistening silver band since the moment he had placed it against Justin’s pale skin. “But I wouldn’t change these last couple of days. Well, except for maybe the hospital part.”

“Yeah, I could do without that.” He rested his head against Brian’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat for a moment. “So . . . how about this weekend is entirely for us? You, me, and Finlay. Gus, too, if you want to run and get him.”

“Getting Gus might be an issue.”

“What? Why?”

“Lindsay’s being a cunt.”

“All right. Explain.”

“Isn’t it too early to talk about all this shit?”

“Maybe. But you probably won’t be able to get any rest until some of it’s out of your system. So just list everything and get it out.”

“Fuck. Fine. Lindsay objects to me spending so much time with Finlay. She doesn’t understand how I can spend time with him when I don’t spend much time with Gus. So I asked her if I could spend more time with him, and she threw my giving up my parental rights back in my face. I tried to explain it to her, how I never thought I was full-time dad material, but that I was getting used to it spending so much time with Finlay. And then she pointed out that I’m not his father.”

“Yes you are. In all the ways that count you’re as much his father as I am. Granted, you’re new at it, but so the fuck what?”

“Exactly. I tried to point that out to her. And she kept insisting that I should spend more time with Gus than with Finlay. I tried to tell her that Gus already has two parents who love him, and that I would just like to spend the occasional weekend with him, and she seemed to think I would be spending more time with Gus if I weren’t spending it with Finlay. And I pointed out that Finlay deserved two parents who love each other, too, just like Gus has.” He studied the younger man for a moment. “I think she wants me to choose.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

“Mel understood where I was coming from, though. That surprised the hell out of me. Because when Lindsay insisted that I couldn’t be a father to Finlay because there was no biological connection between us, Mel immediately jumped in and compared that to her relationship with Gus.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. And then Lindsay pointed out that that was different because Mel is legally Gus’s parent.”

“Because you signed over your rights.”

“Uh huh.”

“Fuck. So no matter what you do, she’s going to try to punish you.” Justin turned his head and looked at Brian for a moment. “I don’t want to come between you and your son. I could never do that to you. Or to him.”

“Well, like I said, if we’re together, you automatically become Gus’s other dad. That’s just how it is, legal or not.”

“I would love to be Gus’s other dad.”

“Just turned eighteen and two kids already.” Brian grinned at him, then leaned in for a kiss. 

“Shut up,” Justin replied, his smile evident in his voice. “So what else is keeping you awake?”

“Dealing with the gang. They have such low expectations where I’m concerned. This is the last thing they’d expect from me, and they sure as hell won’t accept it, at least not right away. They’ll try and undermine our relationship. Especially Mikey.”

“We can deal with him. He’s your friend, and I respect that, so it’s up to you what you put up with from him. But he’s not my friend and I’m only willing to deal with his shit up to a certain point.”

“All right.” He paused for a moment, staring into space as he tried to figure out what to say. “And we have to figure out where we’re living.” He raised his hand to the back of Justin’s neck and began to massage away some of the tenseness. “We need room for both of the kids, and neither of our places are big enough for that. So we either need to find someplace completely new, or we can convert the loft. I actually own the top three floors of the building, so we could talk to a contractor and have some renovations done.”

“We have time to figure that out.”

“True. And we haven’t really talked about our living arrangements while you’re still in therapy. I think I should stick around here for a while. If you’re okay with that. I just wouldn’t feel right about leaving you to take care of Finlay by yourself when you’re not one hundred percent.”

“I’ll agree to that. I’d like you to stay for purely selfish reasons. And I’d like to be able to wake up with you every morning. But it would also be practical, since I need help with Finlay right now. Especially getting him out of his crib. I can lift him with one arm if I have to, like onto my lap and stuff, and I can hold him in place and feed him, but I can’t get him in and out of the crib or the playpen.”

“You know, maybe Vic could come over during the day, or you could take Finlay over there, once I go back to work. I know he’d like to spend time with the two of you. He’s always loved kids, so he’d be great with Finlay. The other day when I took him over there Vic had a blast watching him while I talked to Mikey.”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea. And maybe Daphne could come over when she gets done with school.” He tried to stifle a yawn, but Brian noticed it and chuckled quietly. “I don’t think I want to take him back to daycare just yet – I need to spend time with him.”

“That’s understandable, baby. Okay, I think we’ve done enough talking for now. A few hours of sleep might be a good idea. And since the weekend is ours, we shouldn’t have to get up until Finlay wakes up demanding his breakfast.”

“Yeah, he takes after me when it comes to eating.”

“I’d noticed.” The two men stood and made their way to the bedroom, Justin leading the way, Brian’s arms wrapped around him from behind, his chest pressed to the younger man’s back.

 

Finlay sat in his playpen, left arm outstretched, curling and then straightening his hand. Brian looked at him and smiled. Justin had finally told him the meaning behind the child’s gesture.

“Coming right up, Sonnyboy.” Brian went into the kitchen and was about to remove a bottle from the refrigerator door when the phone rang. He quickly retrieved it from where he had left it on the kitchen table and answered it before it could ring a second time.

“Hello?”

“Um . . . hi. Um . . . maybe I have the wrong number,” a young girl’s voice replied.

“Is this Molly?”

“Yeah. Who’re you?”

“My name’s Brian. I’m a friend of your brother’s,” he replied, trying to remember how old the girl was. Ten . . . eleven? Something like that. It was probably best he not be the one to spill about his and Justin’s relationship.

“Oh, okay. Um, do you think I could talk to him? Because I’m on Mom’s cell phone and I have to be off before Dad gets home from his racquetball game because he won’t let me talk to Justin, but Mom said it was okay if I talked to him this one time, since he was hurt and all, and I just want to make sure he’s okay, and I can’t really tell if he is unless I talk to him, and I haven’t talked to him in a really long time, like over a year, since he moved out of the house, and then Mom told me he moved to Pittsburgh but no one would tell me why.”

“Um, Molly? Think maybe you should pause to breathe once in a while?” Brian asked with a chuckle. He returned to the living room and handed Finlay his bottle, which the boy happily took and began sucking on.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Justin’s asleep right now, but I know he’d want to talk to you, so just give me a minute to wake him up, okay?” He balanced the phone against his ear, then reached into the playpen and picked up Finlay.

“Okay.” She paused for a moment. “You mean you’re going into his room? He never let me go in his room. I mean, I snuck in a few times and he totally freaked out. I don’t know why. Were you like that? Do you have any brothers or sisters? Did they ever go into your room?”

“I have an older sister, and no, she didn’t go into my room and I didn’t really ever go into hers.” He pushed open the bedroom door and found Justin beginning to wake up. Justin’s eyes met his and the blonde smiled, a smile that the older man immediately returned. “Hang on a sec, okay?” he said into the phone. He pushed the hold button, then said, “Molly’s on the phone.”

“Really?” Justin sat up and immediately groaned.

“Uh huh.” Brian set Finlay on the bed and the little boy immediately dropped his bottle and began excitedly crawling toward his father. The older man quickly picked up the bottle to keep it from dripping on the duvet, then studied Justin for a moment. “How’re you feeling?”

“Um, okay, I guess. I think I need one of my pills, though. Just let me do that and go to the bathroom, and then I’ll talk to Molly. Keep her entertained for me until then, okay?” He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on Finlay’s forehead, then carefully stood and made his way toward the bedroom door.

“Justin?”

“Hm?”

“Does Molly know about anything that’s happened with you in the last couple of years? About Finlay?”

“I don’t think so,” he replied quietly. “No, she doesn’t. It’s not something my parents would have talked about.” Turning, he left the room.

“Fuck.” Brian turned his attention to Finlay for a moment, then sat on the bed and let the baby crawl into his lap. Brian’s finger tapped the hold button again. “Molly? It’s Brian again.”

“Is Justin awake yet?”

“Yeah, he just has to use the bathroom and take something for his headache.”

“Don’t let him take Tylenol. He’s allergic to it.”

“I know he is. And I don’t think he has any around.”

“Okay. How old are you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You sound older than Justin. He’s never really had many friends, you know.”

“Is that a fact? Well, maybe he’s a late bloomer in the friends department. Maybe when he starts college.”

“Dad said he dropped out of school.”

“No, not exactly. He took a small break, but he’s gone back and he’s almost done.” He reached forward and lightly tickled Finlay’s stomach, making the boy erupt in laughter. “Sometimes people need a break from things to figure out what they want. You know what I mean?”

“Like when I go shopping with Katie and her mom, and we’re looking at all these clothes, and I want to buy all of them, but I can’t, because I don’t have enough money to buy all of them, so we go and get something to eat, and then go back to the store, and by then I’ve decided that some of the things I wanted before I don’t really want anymore. Is that what you mean?”

“Um, yeah, I guess that’s what I mean. Sort of,” Brian replied, as Justin stepped back into the room.

“Hang on a sec, Molly, okay?”

“Sure.”

Brian pressed the hold button again and set the phone on the bed.

“Da!”

“Hi, Fin,” Justin said, kissing the boy’s blonde head. Then he turned to Brian. “Thank you.” He pressed a light kiss to Brian’s lips. “For talking to Molly, keeping her on the line.”

“Not a problem. Although now I have some sort of weird insight into the life of your sister. And her shopping habits.”

“Not being able to decide what to get?”

“Uh huh.” He watched as Justin picked up the phone, then pressed the hold button and settled beside him on the bed. “Hey, Mollusk . . . uh huh . . . yeah, I’m okay now. My head still hurts, but that’s about how it’s supposed to be right now, I guess.”

Brian watched as Finlay crawled from his lap to Justin’s. The little boy began flexing his fingers and Brian immediately retrieved the bottle and handed it back to him. Finlay began happily sucking on it as he reclined against his father’s bare chest. The older man found himself studying the two of them intently. This was something he’d never wanted, a partner and a child that was always around, but now he _did_ want that, and it surprised the hell out of him. If it had been anyone other than Justin, he knew he wouldn’t be sitting here right now, part of an actual family.

His eyes focused on the bracelet adorning Justin’s wrist, then flashed to the matching one on his own wrist. For some reason, he couldn’t stop looking at them. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to Justin’s bare shoulder, thrilled when he received a wide smile from the younger man.

“Um, yeah, I’m back in school. And I’m applying to college . . . well, he’s wrong. Just don’t listen to Dad when he says things about me, okay?” There was another pause and Brian could see that Justin was trying to control his temper. “Because he doesn’t know what’s going on with me, Molly, okay? He doesn’t want to . . . yes, I promise that the next time I see you I’ll fill you in on everything.” Justin reached down and rubbed Finlay’s stomach. “Because I can’t tell you over the phone. Sometimes things just need to be said in person. Just don’t tell Mom or Dad, okay? Because they won’t let me see you. I’ll stop by the house the next time I’m in Chicago, okay? In a few weeks. There are some things I need to take care of there. We’ll talk about everything then, okay?” He pinched his eyes shut for a moment. “Yeah. Well, what did they want? You’re sure Dad told her? No, she never said anything to me. Don’t worry about it, Molly, I’ll deal with it.” He glanced at Brian for a moment. “You want to meet Brian, huh?” He grinned. “I think we might be able to arrange that sometime.”

“As long as I don’t have to take her shopping,” Brian muttered, laying against the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. “It’ll be worse than shopping with Emmett.”

“ _Nothing_ could be worse than shopping with Emmett,” Justin replied quietly, before moving the phone back to his mouth. “Nothing, Mol, just commenting on something Brian said. He didn’t? I can’t say I’m surprised. He hates telling people how old he is.”

“Don’t you dare.” Brian glowered at him for a moment. “She’s going to think I’m really old, kids always think you’re really old, I could be twenty-five and she’d think I was ancient.”

“Well, he doesn’t want me to tell you, Mollusk. Let’s just say he’s older than me and younger than Mom. How’s that? Let’s see . . . he’s tall, has brown hair with reddish highlights in it, hazel eyes . . . “

“Perfect cock,” Brian whispered, only to receive a light pinch to his ribcage.

“Does he?” Justin said into the phone with a laugh. “Well, I’ll have to tell him. Trust me, he won’t mind.” Suddenly Justin’s face changed. “Oh, okay. Well, I’ll let you go then, okay? Molly? Just remember something okay? No matter what Dad says about me, I’ll always love you, okay? Just . . . try and remember that. Okay. Love you, too. Bye.” He turned the phone off, then set it on the nightstand.

“You okay?” Brian asked quietly.

“Yeah.” He turned and looked at Brian for a moment. “Are you sure you want to go to Chicago with me? Everything with my parents is such a huge fucking mess.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He reached over and threaded his fingers through Justin’s. “So what’s going on?”

“It’s a good thing we’re still in bed, because it’s a long story,” he replied, as Brian pushed himself back into a sitting position and leaned against the headboard. “My parents never told Molly why they kicked me out. I don’t think she even knows that my leaving home wasn’t my choice. She doesn’t know about Shannon, that we were married, and she doesn’t know about Finlay. She knows Shannon died, because it was mentioned in church after the accident, but she didn’t know her.”

“Why didn’t your parents tell her?”

“I’ve become the big embarrassment of the family. They didn’t want anyone to know Shannon was pregnant. Even after we got married they didn’t want anyone to know. And to an extent I can understand them being disappointed. I mean, I was sixteen at the time, and that’s really too young to be a parent and a husband, but I wouldn’t trade any of it. It’s all brought me to this point, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

“Anyway, Molly’s pretty much been in the dark about everything. She knows that I don’t get along with our parents anymore, and that they don’t really want anything to do with me, especially my dad, but she doesn’t know why. And I think she knows that it has something to do with Shannon, because her parents stop by the house every once in a while. They were there a couple of days ago but she doesn’t know what they wanted.”

“Why would they be showing up at your parents’?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I just need to get everything settled there so I can get on with my life. So that we can build a life together without worrying about their opinions or their influence on our kids.”

“I’ll support you, you know. Whatever you want to do, whatever you _need_ to do, I’ll be there for you.” Brian reached forward and cupped Justin’s cheek, then lightly kissed him.

 

“So what’s your family like?” Justin asked as he and Brian sat on the living room floor eating the Chinese food they had ordered while Finlay took a nap. He set down his fork and picked up his bottle of water, and studied Brian for a moment.

“Hm. Well, that’s a loaded question,” Brian replied. “Actually, I’m surprised I haven’t told you about them before. You somehow always manage to get me to do and say things that would have previously been considered out-of-character.” He sipped his beer, then shifted his eyes back toward Justin. “Let’s see. Well, I’m guessing you already know that my childhood was pretty miserable. My parents are both alcoholics, have been for years, even when I was a kid. My mom is one of those quiet drunks, who’ll just sit and wallow in her own misery, and she’ll ignore everything going on around her while she does it. And my dad has always been a violent drunk.” He gazed across the room, his eyes momentarily focusing on the picture of Justin and his wife. “Let’s just say that you really didn’t want to get in the way when my dad was drunk. Somehow I always ended up being in the way, though. If I wasn’t he’d come and find me. Christ, I think he’d managed to break both of my arms by the time I was six.

“I think that’s why I bonded with Mikey so strongly when I moved here when I was in the ninth grade, because he was the only one who cared enough to ask me why I was always showing up covered in bruises, with black eyes, broken bones . . . and then there was Deb, and she was great, always threatening to call the police.”

“Your teachers didn’t do anything?”

“I know it wasn’t all that long ago, but things were still a lot different back then. People didn’t want to get involved. And I can understand that, to an extent. But when it becomes obvious that it’s not normal punishment or normal fighting or roughhousing, something needs to be done.”

“What about your sister?”

“He never went after her. I don’t know, I think it’s because she was the child they always wanted. They only wanted one. My dad freaked when my mom told him she was pregnant again. Took her out to dinner and told her she was getting an abortion.”

“Shit.”

“Uh huh. I think that was about the only time she ever defied him. She claimed she couldn’t do it because it was against her religion. I think I had just turned thirteen when he told me that. I’m actually surprised he kept it a secret for as long as he did.”

“That’s not the kind of thing a parent should tell a kid. My dad said that same thing; he wanted Shannon to get an abortion. Said he’d pay for it. There’s no way in hell I’d ever tell Finlay that.”

“That’s why you don’t want anything to do with your dad?”

“Uh huh. If it had just been me I might have been willing to work things out. But I can’t forgive him for more or less wishing my son dead. And there’s no way I’ll tell Finlay about him saying that.”

“It can really fuck you up knowing that you weren’t wanted before you ever really existed,” Brian replied quietly. “Not that that’s the entire reason I’ve always been so fucked up, but I think it’s a part of it.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make sure that Finlay knows he was one of those little ‘happy accidents.’” Justin leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Brian’s lips. “You’re nothing like your father, you know. You’re a million times the man he is. You just have to manage to convince yourself of that.” Justin reached out and threaded his fingers through Brian’s. He would do everything he could to convince the older man that what he said was the truth, even if it took him years to do so.


	2. Clarity

Justin nervously twisted his bracelet back and forth on his wrist while simultaneously tapping his right foot. His eyes were occasionally drawn to the teenage girl sitting across from him, her metal crutches leaning against an empty chair. Then he looked over at Brian and noticed that he had been biting the once beautifully manicured nails on his right hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Brian turned and looked at him. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You never bite your nails.”

“What?” The older man looked at his hand. “Fuck. They’re going to take forever to grow back.”

“Even them out a little, buff them, and they’ll be good as new.” He studied the other man for a moment. “Brian? Maybe you should go in with me. You could learn the exercises and help me with them at home.”

Brian nodded slowly. “Yeah, that might be a good idea. Think your therapist will mind?”

“I don’t give a shit—I want you there.”

“Justin Taylor?”

They looked up to find a young woman wearing a pair of tight jeans and a light pink sweater standing in the doorway just to the right of the receptionist. She held a clipboard in her right hand as she gazed around the waiting room.

“Well, if you want me there, then get your ass up and lead the way,” Brian replied with a grin.

“Fucker.”

“Fuckee.”

“Shut up.” The two men stood and made their way over to the woman. 

“Which one of you is Justin?”

“That would be me.”

“All right. You can come on back.” She smiled at him for a moment, then turned her attention to Brian. “You can wait here, if you like. We’ll only be about an hour.”

“He’s coming with me,” Justin replied. He fixed her with a look that made it clear that the point was not up for debate. 

“Okay, then,” she replied, obviously confused with regard to Brian’s presence. “Follow me.”

Ten minutes later Justin could feel his hand cramping up, and he had barely done anything aside from attempting to transfer a pile of paperclips into a cup. He let out a rush of air and began massaging the straining muscles with his left hand.

“Just think about the end result,” Brian said quietly, reaching over and lightly kneading the knot that had formed at the back of Justin’s neck. 

“Right. Your file says you’re an artist. You’ll be drawing again in no time,” his therapist, Karen, added.

“That’s not what matters,” Justin muttered quietly.

“Would you like a few minutes to regroup?” At Justin’s nod she continued, “I’ll be back in a little bit, then.”

“Look, I know this is frustrating, okay? Seriously, I understand, rehab sucks, no matter how you look at it, so I’m not going to act like you should feel all glad that you’re here. But you need to do this.”

“I know. I expected the first day would be pretty bad.”

“Well, then at least it’s not something you didn’t expect. And if this woman can help you, no matter how annoying she is, no matter how much she keeps trying to hit on you, then you need to go along with what she says.”

“She’s not hitting on me.” 

“The fuck she isn’t. I used to hit on every hot guy I ever saw. I know when someone’s being hit on. She wants you.”

“Then she must be fucking stupid.” He grinned and cocked his head to the side. “I wonder who she thinks you are?”

“Devastatingly handsome older brother?”

“Right. Cause we look so much alike.” He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “I know I need to do this. And I will. And I guess I just wanted to indulge in a few moments of self-pity, okay? But I’m over it now. And you’re right, I need to think about the end result—being able to take care of Finlay again without needing help just to pick him up.”

“You’ll get there. It’s just going to take time.”

“You’ll help, though, right? So I can get there even faster?”

“Provided your therapist approves, then yes.” He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the teen’s lips. “I’ll always help you.”

“So how much of this can he do at home?” Brian asked Karen at the end of the session.

“Well, it would be best if he not overdo it. Twice a day, half an hour at a time at the most, aside from his regular therapy.” She looked at Justin for a moment. “I have every confidence that you’ll gain back, at the very least, ninety-five percent of your fine motor control.”

“And how long will that take?” Justin asked quietly.

“It could take months. If you try to speed up your recovery too quickly, you could end up doing more damage to your hand. I know you’re anxious to return to your art, but you need to give it a little time.”

“It’s not bout the art. Not really,” Justin replied quietly. “I’ll be right back.” He stood quickly and made his way to the bathroom across the hall from the therapy room.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Karen stated quietly, watching Justin as he walked away. “His doctor specifically mentioned that he was an artist and that he would likely be upset at not being able to draw.”

“Of course he’s upset about that, but that’s not his biggest concern.” He gazed around the room for a moment, then returned his attention to Justin’s therapist. “He has a son, Finlay, who’s almost a year old. He’s raised him by himself since he was born. Now Finlay’s just starting to walk. It’s an exciting time. And before long Finlay will be too big for Justin to pick up. He just wants to be able to hold his son again without needing someone to help him. He wants to catch his son when he loses his balance.” Brian cocked his head for a moment. “He basically wants all those moments that he has no chance of getting back.”

“Dr. Rashid never mentioned that he had a son. I never would have thought . . . he’s so young.”

“Age is just a state of mind.” He watched as Justin exited the bathroom and began weaving through tables as he made his way back to them. “He’s been through a lot, and that ages a person.”

“Can we go now?” Justin asked, stepping close to Brian’s side and looking up at him. “I’m starving, and Daph can only watch Finlay until two.” He absently rubbed his right hand, trying to ease some of the stiffness.

“Sure.” 

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, same time, all right, Justin?” Karen said.

“Yeah.” He offered her a small smile. “I’ll try and be in a better mood then.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen much worse as far as temperament goes. Have a good afternoon.” She smiled again, then turned and walked away, clipboard tucked securely in the bend of her elbow.

“Come on. The sooner we get out of here the sooner we can get you fed,” Brian chided, wrapping his arm around Justin’s shoulders and leading the younger man toward the door.

“You make me sound like a fucking animal.” Justin grinned at his partner as they made their way through the snow-dusted street to the Jeep.

“Well, you’re an animal when it comes to fucking, so I was close enough.” He offered Justin a tongue-in-cheek grin, then climbed into the Jeep. He watched as Justin climbed in and used his left hand to buckle his seat belt. “You know, Emmett fucked a howler once.”

“What?”

“I swear to God, he was fucking this guy and the guy, I don’t know, maybe he had a werewolf fetish or something, but the guy let out this ungodly wolf-like howl. Woke Mikey out of a dead sleep.”

“Shit.” Justin began laughing as Brian pulled the Jeep away from the curb and into the snowy Pittsburgh streets. “Fuck. I’m never going to be able to look at him with a straight face ever again. Why did you have to tell me that?”

“It got you laughing, didn’t it?” Brian glanced at him as he stopped at a red light. Leaning over, he lightly pressed his lips to Justin’s. “I will always do whatever I can to make you laugh.”

Justin’s fingers found their way to Brian’s neck, the tips detecting the strong pulse that beat just below the surface. “Thanks. For being there today.” He leaned forward, capturing Brian’s lips in a slow kiss that ended only when the sound of beeping car horns forced them apart.

“Yeah, we definitely need to get you fed,” the older man chuckled as he pressed the gas pedal and drove through the intersection.

 

The diner was nearly packed when they stepped inside. More than a few of the diner’s patrons looked curiously in Justin’s direction, having most likely seen the coverage of his attack in the paper, or viewed the small blurb on the evening news but, wisely, none of them said anything as Brian steered the younger man toward the one empty booth in the diner. They removed their coats, tossing them onto the seats, then sat across from each other. Brian stretched out his legs, twining them with Justin’s, and reached for the younger man’s right hand.

“Still hurt?”

“A little. It’s just all tensed up,” he replied, as Brian’s thumbs began lightly kneading his palm. “That feels great, actually. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“So, what can I get you boys?” Kiki asked as she stopped at the end of the table. “Deb’s not here, by the way. She’s coming in later tonight.”

“That’s fine. I’ll have my usual. Coffee, too.”

“What about you, sweetie?” She turned her attention to Justin.

“Oh. Um . . . a grilled cheese and a cup of tomato soup. Oh, and a side salad with Italian dressing. And a glass of water.”

“Coming right up.”

“You know, I really should call Robert tomorrow. Or stop in at the store and see him. I’m sure I don’t have a job anymore.”

“Maybe that’s for the best right now. You shouldn’t be going back to work so soon, anyway.”

“I just don’t want to dip into the settlement money anymore than I have to.”

“Well, I think this qualifies.” Brian lifted Justin’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to his palm. “Besides, you still have to finish school. Working and finishing school would probably just be too much for you, when you combine them with physical therapy and just generally recovering.”

“I know.” He sighed heavily, then glanced around the diner for a moment before letting his eyes meet Brian’s again. “I’m just not used to this. I don’t like having to slow down.”

“Well, maybe it’ll be good for you—in the long run, that is. Just spend this time relaxing, figuring out what you want over the next few years. Plot your strategy for getting it.”

“Hm. Well . . . I already have you. Though I know it’ll take some work to keep you. Course, the same goes for me, you know. And we have Finlay and Gus. Best kids in the world.”

“They’re ours, how could they not be?”

“But we really need to figure out this whole living arrangement. It would just seem really strange at this point if we’re not living together,” the younger man replied as Kiki delivered their lunch. “Even though I’m sure we’ll get a lot of shit about it.”

“Yeah, Mikey’s bound to say something.”

“Not just him, though. I’m sure there’ll be plenty to go around, mainly about how we’re rushing things.”

“No one knows our relationship like we do,” Brian replied quietly. “And as long as we’re going at a pace that we’re okay with, then there’s nothing to worry about.” He released Justin’s hand and reached for his coffee. “Besides, I want to live with you.”

“My place is way too small for us to be there more than a month or two . . . we’d be ready to rip each other’s hearts out. But I like the idea of renovating the loft.” Justin picked up his spoon and began stirring his soup. “Maybe connect all three floors that you own.”

“You wouldn’t want a new house?”

“No. I mean, not right now. Maybe when we’re both retired or something. But I like the loft. It’s so completely you. And I like that. But if we connect the three floors, we can make a home that’s entirely for us and our kids. You know what I mean?”

“Uh huh.” Brian sipped his coffee again, then set the cup down and smiled slightly. “So you want to keep the loft basically the way it is, make it sort of our entire bedroom suite. The first floor could be for entertaining, large living room, formal dining room, guest rooms, that sort of thing. And the second floor could be more of where our family home begins. The kids’ rooms, our living room, a small kitchen. Maybe an office or studio.”

“Given this a lot of thought, have you?” Justin unleashed a smile as he looked up from his soup and caught Brian’s eye.

“Hm, a bit.” He cleared his throat, then sipped his coffee again. “I was sort of planning to connect the second apartment with the loft, anyway, because I wanted Gus to have a room of his own when he gets older. I was going to rent out the other apartment. But I think it would be best if we connected all three floors. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to need to be happy with it for quite a while.”

“All right. But I refuse to let you pay for all of the renovations.”

“I thought you were saving your money for school and for Finlay’s education.”

“I am, but I have quite a bit of it. I can afford to contribute to our home. Besides, a home is an investment in the future.”

“All right. Well, there’s a lot we have to do, then. I’ll contact my contractor, maybe he can meet us at my office sometime this week and we can get the ball rolling on this.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

“Uh huh. If I think about it too much I’ll come up with eight million fucking reasons why I should tell you to get lost, and go back to my wicked trick-fucking ways, but you and I both know that that’s not what I want. So I need to not over-analyze everything and just sort of jump in and go with whatever happens.”

“Okay, then. Call the contractor.”

“Hey, Brian. Why do you need a contractor?” Suddenly Emmett appeared at the end of their table. 

“Having some renovations done on the loft.”

“Oh.” His eyes drifted toward Justin. “Hey, baby. You look good. How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” He smiled up at the taller man. “Do you want to join us?”

“Actually I’m just waiting on a lunch order for the store. But I could always pull up a chair while I’m waiting. I don’t want to intrude on your lunch.”

“I don’t think you could ever intrude.”

“Yes he could,” Brian replied with a grin. “Emmett can intrude with the best of them.”

“I’ll have you know,” the man in question remarked, setting a chair at the end of the table and sitting down, “that even if I’m not invited, I’m almost always welcomed.” His gaze settled on the bracelet adorning Justin’s left wrist. “New jewelry?”

“Uh huh.” Justin glanced up at Brian.

“Let me see.”

“I don’t know . . .” His eyes focused on Brian, taking note of the set of the man’s shoulders, the small grin that curled his lips, and the way he crossed his arms over his chest, the silver of his bracelet shining brightly against the black tee shirt he was wearing.

“Emmett won’t stop harassing you until you show him.”

“Please let me see?”

“Okay.” Justin turned slightly in his seat, then held his wrist out to Emmett.

“Oh my God! Is that . . . that’s a Lover’s Knot, isn’t it? I’d recognize that anywhere. It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”

“Um, it was a gift, so I’m not really sure . . . “

“ _Siobhan’s Silver_ over on Hudson,” Brian supplied, momentarily turning his attention back to his lunch.

“ _You_ bought it? You bought a man jewelry? That _so_ does not make sense.”

“Why not? There’s no rule saying that a person has to be the same as they’ve always been. There has to be room for change. Can any of us really say that we’re the same person we were five years ago?” Justin asked.

“Um, sweetie, five years ago you were most likely just discovering masturbation,” Emmett pointed out, batting his eyelashes. “Brian, on the other hand, spent every night out fucking different guys.”

“Well, that’s not me anymore,” Brian replied quietly, as he drummed his fingers on the table. 

“Is that a _matching bracelet?”_ Emmett pointed a long, slender finger at Brian’s left wrist.

“That would be the logical conclusion.” 

“Um . . . why?”

“Take a wild guess. Christ, you’d think it was the Second Coming or something. It’s not a fucking miracle that I could decide that maybe I want more out of life than nameless tricks and endless fucking.”

“Honestly, that doesn’t surprise me at all,” Emmett replied, bestowing the two men with a wide gap-toothed grin. “I sort of thought maybe it would happen eventually, but I didn’t think you’d settle down until you were well into your fifties.”

“Perish the thought of me being in my fifties.”

“Daph! What are you doing here?” Justin suddenly exclaimed, as the girl made her way through the diner to them, Finlay strapped into his stroller. 

“My mom called, my grandmother fell and she needs me to go to the hospital with her. I’m so sorry, I know I promised to stay with him until two . . .”

“That’s fine, don’t worry about it. I hope your grandmother’s going to be okay.” Justin leaned forward and quickly hugged her.

“Call us if there’s anything we can do, okay?” Brian added, standing and planting a quick kiss on Daphne’s cheek.

“I will. See you guys later.” Then she spun around and rushed out of the diner.

“And who’s this little man?” Emmett said, wiggling his fingers at Finlay as Justin sat down and Brian reached over to release the boy from the confines of the stroller.

“What, haven’t you talked to Michael or Deb at all in the last week?”

“Well, Deb’s been really busy, and Michael spends almost all of his spare time with David. He’s hardly ever at the apartment, and if he is, it’s just to grab some clothes. And I don’t think he’s been in the best of moods lately, for some reason.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll get over it,” Brian replied, setting Finlay gently on Justin’s lap. “He always does. And then he’ll go back to being his usual pissing and moaning self.”

“Speaking of pissing . . .” 

“Christ! You know, I can’t wait until you’re done with therapy so you can get back to changing his diaper on a regular basis.”

“Hey, you signed on for fatherhood, this is what you get,” Justin replied, as Brian leaned over and pressed a light kiss to his lips, then picked up Finlay and slung his diaper bag over his shoulder. Then Brian turned and wandered off in the direction of the bathroom.

“Did I just miss something? Is that your brother?” Emmett asked, turning his attention back to Justin.

“No, he’s my son. His name’s Finlay. I can’t believe no one told you. I would have thought for sure Deb or Michael would have said something, especially once they found out I gave Brian temporary custody of Finlay when I was in the hospital.” Justin studied the other man for a few seconds. “Neither of them ever really thought he would be a good father, did they?”

“I think they believe he would like to, but I don’t think they feel he really can be. They both saw the example he grew up with, and I’m sure they wonder at his own parenting skills.”

“Well, parenting can be self-taught. No one showed me, and I think I’ve done all right with Finlay so far. And Brian’s doing a good job with him, too.”

“So, if you don’t mind my asking . . . how did you happen to end up with a baby? I mean, since you’re gay and all and practically a baby yourself.”

“It’s a really long story, and it’s not a pleasant one. The short version is that I was married, my wife was involved in a really bad car accident when she was eight months pregnant, she died at the hospital, but the doctors were able to save Finlay.”

“Oh, baby, that’s terrible.”

“Yeah, but I have Finlay, and Brian, too. I think that’s the family I’m supposed to have.”

“Here you go, one freshly-changed almost-toddler.” Brian set Finlay on Justin’s lap, then sunk into his seat again, dropping the diaper bag at the end of the table near Emmett’s chair. “Your kid has got to have the smallest bladder on the planet.”

“Brian? He’s eleven months old, of course he has a small bladder.”

“You know what I mean. How does something so little manage to piss so much?”

“It’s a mystery.” Justin grinned, then looked at Finlay and made a face at him.

“Da!” 

“Emmett? Can you do us a favor?” Brian asked the other man suddenly, his eyes glued to Justin and Finlay as he spoke.

“Um, sure.”

“Don’t repeat any of this conversation that we had today. I need time to talk to Mikey and Lindsay, let them know what’s going on so they don’t hear it from someone else. And I can’t really tell them until we’ve got everything ironed out with the renovations and everything.”

“Oh, yeah, I can keep a secret. No problem,” he replied, then mimed zipping his lips shut. “Although I’d like nothing more than to spill to the hoards and whores that Brian Kinney will no longer be seeking out tricks in the backroom of Babylon.”

“Now there’s something we need to do again sometime.” Justin glanced up, his clear blue eyes meeting Brian’s hazel. “It was fun.”

“Hm. Yeah. You think Daphne may be able to baby-sit again this weekend? Provided everything with her grandmother turns out all right?”

“Possibly. I could always ask.”

“Emmett?” The three men turned and saw Kiki standing behind the counter, holding three large white paper bags in her hands. 

“Gotta go. My fellow queens and princesses at Torso are eagerly awaiting my return. I’m really happy for you guys, you know? And I’m glad you’re doing so much better, Justin.” He leaned forward and lightly ruffled Finlay’s sparse hair, causing the boy to giggle. “God, he’s gorgeous. I want one.” He grinned slightly. “I’ll see you guys later. And I swear I’ll keep this afternoon between us.”

 

Brian barely had time to set his briefcase on his desk the next morning before Cynthia descended on him, day planner in one hand, coffee mug in the other.

“So what’s on the schedule for today?” He unsnapped his briefcase and began removing the files he had been working on while Justin was in the hospital.

“You have a ten o’clock in the conference room with Dean Archer from the University of Pittsburgh. They’re looking to update their image. Then you have a lunch meeting at Papagano’s with Liberty Air. I believe they’ve sent their V.P., a Charles Farnsworth. After that you just need to look in on the campaigns that are currently in the works.” She glanced at the planner again. “Oh. Marty would like to see you as soon as possible.”

“All right. Can you call Sam Andrews and see if he’s available for a meeting sometime this week? He’s the contractor who did the original work on the loft. His number should be in the Rolodex. And tell him he’ll need to bring the blueprints for all three apartments.”

“You’re planning renovations? I thought the loft was your baby?”

“It’s staying basically the same; it’s just not big enough anymore.”

“Oh. Okay. So, should I let Marty know you’re here?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Cyn.”

Brian sat in his plush leather desk chair and let his eyes drift to the small silver-framed photo of Gus that was to the left of his monitor. It had been nearly a week since his argument with Lindsay, and he hadn’t seen either her or Gus since. He would have to do something about that; he would have to see Gus and end the nagging feeling that he was turning into a dead-beat dad. Or worse—his own father. Maybe he’d call Lindsay tonight, see about stopping by to visit after work the following day.

“Brian? Are you busy?”

He looked up to see Marty Ryder standing in the doorway. “Hm? No. Come on in.”

“You looked lost in thought.” Marty stepped around the chair in front of Brian’s desk and sat down.

“Something like that. So, what can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to see how you are. See that you’re ready to jump back into the thick of things.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“And how is your . . . friend?”

“Partner.”

“What?”

“Justin is my partner. And he’s doing much better. He got out of the hospital Friday and started physical therapy yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“He lost most of the fine motor control and strength in his right hand. His doctor thinks he’ll get at least 95% of it back, but it’s frustrating. He’s an artist, and he can’t really work right now. His college plans are up-in-the-air, because he was hoping to go to PIFA. And . . . there are other more important things that his injuries are keeping him from doing right now.” Brian gazed at his photo of Gus again and decided he’d have to add one of Finlay and Justin as well. “But that can’t be the only reason you wanted to see me. So . . . what’s going on?”

“Marciano Jewelers is merging with Greenblatt’s. I thought maybe if we threw our hat in the ring . . .”

“Go for it.”

“I want to you handle the account. If we successfully do this we’ll be on the national map much more so than we are now.”

“When would all of this need to be ready?”

“The fourteenth.”

“Fuck.” Brian pinched the bridge of his nose, then stared at his business partner. “I can’t, Marty. I can’t present it to them. I can design it, I can do all of the work behind the scenes, I can do anything after the meeting on the fourteenth, including other meetings, but I can’t go and present it to them. You’ll have to do it.”

“Brian . . .”

“I’m sorry, okay? But I’m going to be out of town for a few days beginning on the fourteenth.”

“What’s so important that you’d miss an important business meeting? That’s just not like you, Brian. Business is your life.”

“Not anymore, Marty. Not entirely, anyway. I have family obligations.”

“You’ve _never_ had family obligations!” The older man stood and began pacing around the room, finally coming to a stop and staring out the large windows of the tastefully-decorated corner office.

“I’ve never had a family before, so that would explain that.” He studied the other man for a moment, then continued. “I’m going to tell you this with the understanding that this conversation is not to leave this office. I don’t want this repeated.”

“Of course.” Marty pushed his glasses further along the bridge of his nose, then crossed his arms over his chest.

“The fifteenth is Justin’s son’s first birthday. It’s also the one-year anniversary of his wife’s death.”

“What?” Marty spun around and stared at him, his eyes wide with shock.

“She was involved in a car accident when she was pregnant. She didn’t survive. She was fucking seventeen years old, Marty. Justin wants me to go to Chicago with him so he can pay his respects. I promised him I would.” Brian studied his business partner. “I’ll do all the preliminary work on this campaign, Marty, I just can’t present it. If you can’t do the presentation then Tom Crenshaw can.”

“All right,” Marty replied with a sigh of defeat. “But you’re ready for today’s meeting?”

“Of course. You know me Marty—always on top of things.”

 

Brian was still going over his notes for his meeting with Dean Archer when Cynthia appeared in the doorway. He looked up, keeping his face blank.

“Yes?”

“I called Sam, he said he’d make room in his schedule to meet with you tomorrow, if that’s all right. So I tentatively penciled him in for a lunch meeting. Is that okay?”

“I’ll need to check with Justin, but it should be fine. Oh, can you book two first-class tickets to Chicago for the fourteenth? And return tickets for the eighteenth. Also book a suite at the Drake Hotel. Request that a crib be placed in one of the rooms.”

“All right. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it. Just close the door on your way out. Thanks, Cyn.” Momentarily setting his notes aside, he retrieved his cell phone and hit speed dial.

“Hey, Brian,” the younger man answered almost immediately. “Aren’t you at work?”

“Uh huh. One of the perks of being the boss is having the freedom to make as many personal calls as I want to.” He heard Finlay giggle in the background. “So what are you doing?”

“I’m at Vic’s. He and Finlay are bonding.”

“Ah. I’m sure they’re both having a great time, then. Vic’s really good with kids.”

“Yeah.”

“So, anyway, the reason I called . . . Sam can meet with us tomorrow around lunch time. I haven’t confirmed it yet, I wanted to ask you first.”

“That sounds fine. I can meet you at your office after my session tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you’re going to feel up to it?” Brian picked up his pen and began playing with it, twirling it through his fingers.

“I’m not going to let this interrupt my life anymore than it has to. So should I meet you at your office?”

“Yeah, I’ll call Sam and confirm the meeting, then. I thought maybe we could go over our ideas for the renovations over lunch, then maybe head over to the loft for a little while and walk through it with Sam.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay. I have to get going, I have a meeting with the dean of Pitt. Updating their image. Yippee.”

“Well, you _are_ more in touch with the youth of today than you were a few months ago.”

“You’re smirking, aren’t you? I can hear it. Besides, I’m not _in touch_ with youth, I just like to _touch_ youth, you specifically.”

“Glad to know that.” He paused for a moment. “Okay, Vic’s signaling that there’s a diaper change needed, and he’s not willing to do it by himself. Unlike you.”

“Smart man, making you do it. Besides, think of it as part of your therapy. I’ll see you tonight, then. Are you going to be home?”

“Yeah, Daphne might stop by.”

“Okay. I’ll stop by the diner and pick up something on my way.”

“Sounds good. See you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” He pressed the disconnect button, then set his phone down. Sighing, he turned his attention back to his notes.

 

“Decided to dine with the peons tonight?” Ted asked as Brian grabbed an empty chair and placed it at the end of the booth occupied by Ted, Emmett, Michael, and David.

“Sadly, no,” he replied. He gazed around, finally spotting the familiar red curls. “Deb!”

“Keep your dick in your pants, I’ll be right there!”

“So how are the little princes?” Emmett asked.

“Good. Everything is starting to get back to normal somewhat,” he replied as Debbie stopped at their table.

“So what can I get you?”

“Two cheeseburgers with fries and a garden salad with grilled chicken, no dressing, to go.”

“You’re not staying?”

“Can’t, I need to go home.”

“Then you’d better make an appearance at this week’s family dinner on Friday night.” She glared at him, her hands on her hips, and loudly snapped her gum. 

“I can’t make any promises, Deb.”

“Come on, Brian! It’ll be like old times . . . we can go to Babylon afterward and dance, and then you can hit the back room and fuck every hot guy you see. It’s been weeks since you’ve been there, you’re missing out on everything. Oh, there are these twins, they must be new . . . they’re _so_ hot.”

“Maybe you could do them both . . . at the same time . . . you know, so you have time for some of the others. You’re into that, aren’t you?” David asked, a small smirk playing across his purplish lips.

“Or do you have to check with the little woman first?” Ted contributed.

“That’s just fucking rude, Ted. You have no idea what you’re talking about, so just keep out of it,” Emmett chastised.

“Justin’s welcome to join us,” Deb added. “You let me know.” Then she turned and walked away to place his order with the cook.

Without realizing he was doing so, Brian slipped his fingers into the left sleeve of his suit jacket and began running his fingertips over the engraved silver. When he looked up it was to find everyone staring at him with a perplexed look—all except Emmett, who had caught him touching the bracelet and couldn’t help but smile. 

“Well I, for one, would love to see Justin again.” Emmett displayed his large gap-toothed smile as he gazed around at the other occupants of the booth.

“Yeah, I think he feels the same about you.” Brian let his fingers slide out of his sleeve as he regarded Emmett. As he studied Emmett’s smile, he knew that the other man could prove to be an invaluable ally to Justin and himself in the coming weeks and for that he was grateful.


	3. Clarity

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” Brian, wearing only a pair of black briefs, reclined on the bed and studied his partner as the younger man began going through the contents of his closet. “It didn’t go so well the last time we went to the family dinner.”

“We also weren’t committed to each other then. At least not consciously, the way we are now. This time we face them as a couple, and I think we’re a lot stronger that way.” He crossed the room and dropped a light blue sweater onto the end of the bed, then sat down beside Brian. “Besides, you might have to suffer through meeting my parents when we go to Chicago. _And_ my in-laws. Trust me, you’re getting the worse end of the stick when it comes to dealing with the family.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the other man’s lips, then stood and grabbed his sweater. “Come on, we have to leave in twenty minutes.”

“Are you sure that’s enough time to pack all of Finlay’s shit and still manage to stuff him into that ridiculous snowsuit?”

“He gets cold easily. He takes after me that way.”

“Baby, it’s barely even snowing yet. And it’s in the high forties out. We’re not in the deep-freeze yet.”

“If he starts to get overheated I’ll get him out of the snowsuit. Deal?”

“Deal.” He stood, then wandered over to the younger man as he began pulling on a pair of jeans. Reaching forward, he buttoned and zipped them for his partner, then gently licked Justin’s lips before sliding his tongue inside for a kiss that left them both breathing heavily.

 

Finlay had seemingly decided, upon getting out of the Jeep, that he wanted to walk a little, so Brian and Justin found themselves on either side of the little boy, each holding one of his smooth pudgy hands.

“He’s getting so much better at this,” Justin said quietly, smiling at Brian. “Okay, up the steps. Let’s just lift him.”

“Okay.” As they lifted Finlay up the steps and onto Debbie’s porch, the little boy burst into a peal of laughter. “Hm, I guess he liked that.” He studied Justin for a moment. “Are you sure you want to deal with all of this?”

“They’re your family. Regardless of how they feel about me, they love you.”

“Just let me know if they get to you too much. We can always go home.”

“I will. Promise.” Justin leaned over and pressed a kiss to Brian’s lips, just as the front door opened.

“Get in here, you two, before this little angel freezes to death.”

“Deb, he’s fine.”

“Oh my God! He’s walking!” she shrieked as they stepped inside and closed the door behind them.

“Yeah, he just started last week.” Justin grinned down at his son for a moment. “He’s still really wobbly, though. Probably will be for another month or two before he starts walking completely on his own.”

“Okay, enough of that. Time to get the kid out of the fucking snowsuit.”

“Brian!”

“Deb, it’s too hot in here for him to be wearing it.” He gazed around the empty living room. “I can’t believe we’re the first ones here.”

“That’s obviously a result of Sunshine’s influence,” she replied, beaming at Justin. “He never shows up anywhere on time.”

“If it’s worthwhile I do.” Brian leaned over and picked Finlay up. “Come on, Sonnyboy, let’s get you out of that thing.” He carried the child over to the couch and laid him down. He unzipped the little blue snowsuit and set about gently easing Finlay out of it. “So who else is coming?” He glanced at Deb as she sat in the recliner across from the couch, while Justin removed his coat and hung it on the coat rack by the front door.

“Michael and David, Ted, Emmett, and the girls are coming. They’re bringing Gus with them.”

“Really?” Justin asked, moving over to the couch and sitting beside Brian, who now had Finlay propped on his lap. “That’s great.” He smiled over at his partner. “I can’t wait to see Gus again.”

“Yeah.” He lightly bounced Finlay on his lap, then passed the boy to his father. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Um, water’s fine,” Justin said, brushing Finlay’s hair away from his forehead. He watched as Brian headed toward the kitchen, then looked at Finlay again. “I think you’re needing a haircut, little man.”

“No.” Finlay stared up at his father. “No.”

“He’s a pisser!”

“Most of the time, literally,” Brian drawled, entering the living room again and handing Justin a bottle of water. “Where’s Vic?”

“He had to run and refill his prescriptions,” Deb replied as the front door opened and Michael and David stepped into the house. The moment his gaze fell on Justin and Finlay, Michael’s eyes narrowed and a scowl crossed his face.

“Hi, Ma.”

“Hi, baby. Hello, David.”

“Deb,” the other man replied with a slight nod of his head.

“Have you met Justin yet?” As David shook his head, Deb continued, “This is Brian’s friend, Justin, and his son, Finlay.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” David plastered a fake grin to his face, then took a seat in another chair opposite the couch.

“You, too.” Finlay began bouncing up and down on Justin’s lap, waving his arms and legs and giggling. Holding the little boy firmly against his chest with his left arm, Justin slid from the couch to the floor. Then, separating his legs, he let Finlay crawl between his knees onto the carpet. He kneeled behind the boy, then reached out and helped Finlay to his feet. The little boy immediately started bouncing, laughing as he did so. Justin held onto his son’s hands, focusing carefully on keeping his right hand gripping as it was supposed to, and helped Finlay take three steps, then turn around and take four steps over to Brian. Once there, he let go of Finlay’s hands and let the little boy hold himself up by wrapping his arms around one of Brian’s legs.

“So, um . . . how old is your son?” David asked as Michael perched on the arm of his chair. 

“He’ll be a year on the fifteenth.” Justin reached forward and pried Finlay away from Brian’s leg, and sat him down on the floor and began tickling him. He had learned early on that Finlay was very ticklish and that it was always useful to tickle him to get him to stop crying. While most children who were ticklish detested being tickled, Finlay always seemed to find it amusing.

“Da!”

“You asked for it, little man.”

“No!” Finlay rolled over and got to his feet, his hands forming fists in Justin’s sweater as he tried to balanced himself. “Love Da.” He tipped forward and, as Justin caught him, he placed a sloppy kiss on his father’s cheek. Then he looked up at Brian and smiled. Reaching up, he flexed his fingers.

Brian grinned at the boy, then leaned over and reached into the diaper bag, deftly pulling out the bottle of juice Justin had stashed there just before they left the apartment. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to the child’s soft forehead and then handed him the bottle, just as the front door opened and Mel and Lindsay stepped inside, Gus held securely in the brunette’s arms.

“Hi everyone,” Lindsay said brightly, her eyes scanning the room as she slipped off her pea coat and hung it on the coat rack.

“Great. Now we’re just missing Ted, Emmett, and Vic,” Deb exclaimed as Mel sidestepped her partner and carried Gus over to Brian.

“Here, hold him while I take off my coat.” She deposited the small boy in Brian’s arms.

“Thanks, Mel.”

“I know you’ve missed him.”

“Um, Brian, I can take him,” Lindsay remarked, as Justin returned to his spot beside Brian while Finlay sat at his feet and sucked on his bottle.

“I haven’t seen him in a week, Lindz,” the older man remarked, staring at the blonde woman for a moment. 

“I just don’t think—.”

“Hey, we’re all here now!” Vic exclaimed, stepping to the house, Ted and Emmett trailing along behind him. “Let the evening begin!”

“God, Brian, he’s beautiful,” Justin said quietly, leaning against Brian’s shoulder and peering at the baby. He reached forward and lightly brushed his fingertip along Gus’s cheek, smiling when the baby opened his eyes then reached out and wrapped a tiny hand around his finger.

“I think he likes you.”

“Brian, maybe it would be best if I took him,” Lindsay remarked, her eyes narrow as they focused on Justin.

“He’s fine,” he replied, as Justin gently rubbed the skin under Brian’s silver bracelet.

“Da.”

“Yes?” He turned and looked at his son, who was now holding out the empty bottle. “You’re finished already?” He took the bottle and slipped it into the diaper bag, then helped Finlay to his feet again and held him steady while the little boy took two shaky steps toward him. When he was close enough, Justin leaned down and, wrapping his left arm around his son’s waist, carefully pulled the boy up onto his lap. “Look.” He directed the boy’s gaze toward Gus. Finlay immediately started giggling.

“They’re going to have so much fun together when they’re older,” Brian observed quietly, smiling at his partner.

“Planning a bit far into the future, aren’t you?” Michael remarked as he watched the two men.

“Come on, everyone, dinner’s on the table and waiting.”

“Here, hold him for a second while I run out and get Fin’s playpen.” Brian passed Gus to Justin, making sure the boy was held securely against Justin’s chest, before he stood, slipped on his leather coat, and headed out into the chilly evening air.

“So how are you feeling, Justin?” Mel asked, slipping into Brian’s vacated spot on the couch.

“Better. Thanks for helping Brian with everything when I was in the hospital.”

“Don’t mention it.” She looked over at Finlay, then reached out and took his pudgy hand in hers. “So at least now we know why you’re so good with children.”

“Yeah,” he replied with a slight chuckle, as Finlay leaned over and peered at Gus again. “He’s never seen such a young baby up close before. Most of the kids at his daycare are around his age and a little older.” He reached up and brushed Finlay’s hair away from his forehead again. “Yup, you definitely need a haircut.”

“No.”

“Stubborn little shit, isn’t he?” Deb observed from the other side of the room, as the front door opened and Brian entered carrying the playpen. He quickly set it up in view of the kitchen table, then hung up his coat before making his way over to Justin and the children.

“Okay, Sonnyboy, time to go into your cage.”

“Brian!” Mel exclaimed.

“It’s okay, Mel,” Justin replied with a slight chuckle as Brian leaned over and picked up Finlay, holding him high in the air and spinning him around slowly until the boy squealed with laughter.

“We should go eat before everything gets cold,” Lindsay said quietly, turning and storming into the kitchen.

“Is everything okay? I mean . . .” Justin asked Mel quietly, gently rubbing Gus’s back.

“I don’t know. She’s been fine all day. But now . . . I don’t know.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead for a moment, her gold ring shining in the light of the living room. “Here, let me take him so we can all get something to eat.” She reached forward and carefully extracted her son from Justin’s arms. “You must be starving.”

“He’s always starving,” Brian commented, wrapping his arm around Justin’s shoulders as the younger man stood and leading him toward the kitchen.

“And _you’re_ insatiable,” Justin whispered.

“Obviously.” He grinned at the younger man, then led him over to a pair of vacant chairs.

“So, Justin, what is it you do? I mean, you look so young, if you don’t mind my saying so,” David remarked, reaching for the basket of garlic bread that had been placed to his left.

Justin regarded him for a moment, then picked up his fork and began picking at his salad. “I’m finishing up school right now. Hopefully starting college in the fall, if everything works out.”

“Oh? What are you planning to go into?”

“Careerwise, I’m not really sure. I was planning to major in art and business. Just so my bases are covered.” Just then his right hand began to cramp up. He quickly switched his fork to his left hand and dropped his right hand onto his thigh, flexing his fingers in an effort to dull the pain shooting through this palm. Without a word, Brian had reached down and begun massaging his hand.

“Is there any particular field that you’re interested in?” Mel asked.

“I was thinking computer animation, but now I’m not so sure.” He set down his fork and brushed his hair from his forehead as Brian continued his massage. “So what do you do, David?”

“I’m a chiropractor.”

“My baby’s dating a doctor!” Debbie exclaimed, laughing. “Who would’ve ever thought that?”

“Certainly not me,” Brian replied.

“So, are you boys joining us at Babylon tonight?” Emmett chipped in.

“No, but maybe tomorrow,” Justin replied. “Thanks for asking, though. It’s just been a really busy week and we’re both a little worn out.”

“Speaking of tomorrow,” Brian added, turning toward Emmett, “I may need your help with something. So give me a call around noon, if you’re not busy.”

“Oh, um, sure.”

Justin leaned closer to Brian and lightly kissed his jaw. “All better now. Thank you.”

“No problem.” He smiled, then reached for his wineglass. 

“Brian!” Michael suddenly exclaimed. “Where’s your bracelet?”

“I got rid of it.”

“But you’ve always worn that bracelet,” Michael pressed.

“Just since that trip to Mexico. And that was a lifetime ago. It’s just a bracelet, Michael. And a cheap one at that. It didn’t have any deep meaning behind it.”

“But it’s one of your trademarks!” Michael crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his friend. Then his eyes quickly shifted to Brian’s left wrist and the silver bracelet that was peeking out from under the sleeve of his sweater. “What’s that?” He looked pointedly at Brian’s arm.

“A different bracelet.” He leaned back and sipped his wine for a moment. “Justin has one, too.”

“Oh? Why?” Lindsay asked, clearly surprised at the revelation.

“Same reason you and Mel exchanged rings. We decided to be partners and it seemed appropriate to have something to commemorate that.” He studied the shocked faces of his friends for a moment before the silence was broken.

“Are the two of you insane!” Deb screeched. “Sunshine’s still a fucking kid.”

“Honestly, Debbie, you really don’t know enough about my life to make that kind of statement.” Justin crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded the older woman.

“I know you’re eighteen fucking years old!”

“And that’s all you know,” Justin replied. “Look, I really don’t want to get into a big argument about this here, especially not with Gus and Finlay in the next room.”

“What the fuck are you doing, Brian?” Michael hissed. “You can’t be serious about this. About _him._ ” 

“Michael, just leave them alone. They’re grown men capable of making their own decisions,” Vic said. “And I think it would be wise for the rest of you to either congratulate them, or keep your mouths shut. That includes you, Sis.”

“But—.”

“I mean it.” Vic stood and made his way over to the two men. “I’m glad the two of you are so happy.” He hugged Brian first, and then Justin as well, and planted a kiss on the side of the blonde’s head. “Now let me see the new finery.”

“Oh, of course,” Justin replied with a smile. He pushed up the sleeve of his sweater and held his arm out to the older man. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful. Did you pick these out together?”

“Brian surprised me the night I got home from the hospital.”

“This is fucking bullshit!” Michael exclaimed, standing and nearly knocking over his chair, then hurriedly making his way upstairs.

“Christ!” Brian slumped in his chair, then picked up his wineglass once again and drained the contents. “I’ll go talk to him, see if I can smooth things over.” He reached over and slipped his fingers into the fine silk of Justin’s hair, then pulled the younger man closer for a quick kiss. “You gonna be okay here with the vultures?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.” He pressed a light kiss to Brian’s lips, then watched as his partner made his way toward the stairs. As much as he didn’t like Michael or his overly-vocal opinions, he knew how important the other man was to Brian and, for that reason only, he was willing to put up with him, at least as much as was humanly possible.

 

Brian made his way down the hall toward Michael’s old room, and found the other man exactly where he thought he would be—sitting on the end of his bed, quickly flipping through a comic book.

“Mikey?”

“Leave me the fuck alone.”

“We need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“The fuck there isn’t!” Brian began pacing around the room, before finally settling on the bed beside Michael. “Let me ask you something—and I want an honest answer, okay?” At the other man’s barely perceptible nod, he continued, “Why is it that everyone else in our little group is allowed to have someone, to bring someone else in? You have David. Ted had Blake for a while. Emmett . . . Christ, you were nicer to that prostitute he was seeing than you’ve been to Justin. So why is it that I’m not supposed to have anyone?”

“I never said that.”

“But you’ve always assumed that if I decided to settle down, it would be with you. I never promised you that, Mikey, I always let you know that we were just going to be friends. But if you keep pushing this, if you keep treating Justin the way you have been, then we won’t even have a friendship left.”

“You’d choose him over me?”

“I’d choose him over everyone.” He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, then held out his arm to display the silver band surrounding his wrist. “Look at this. Really look at it. The design of it, the way it’s intertwined, so you don’t know where one part begins and the other ends, it’s all symbolic of how I feel about him. We want a life together, Mikey, and I’d like you to be a part of it, to be our friend, but it you can’t do that . . .”

“I don’t want to lose you. I just don’t know if I can accept him.” He set the comic down and brushed away a tear that had begun rolling down his cheek.

“If you really don’t want to lose me, then you don’t have much of a choice.” He stood and made his way toward the door, as Michael sat on the end of his bed, tears streaming down his face. “I love him, Michael. Please try and understand that.”

 

When Brian returned to the dinner table, Justin immediately noticed the weariness that had invaded his eyes.

“You okay?”

“Hm?” Brian studied his lover’s face for a moment. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Meet me outside in a few minutes,” Justin whispered, then raising his voice slightly, he said, “I’m just going to step outside for a quick smoke.”

“Smoking isn’t good for you at your age . . . or at any age, for that matter. It’ll stunt your growth,” Debbie advised as she helped herself to a second serving of lasagna.

“I really don’t anticipate getting any taller anyway, Deb.” He grinned, then made his way over to the playpen to check on his sleeping son before grabbing his coat and stepping out onto the porch.

He retrieved his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped out a solitary stick. Gazing around, he took note of the slightly open garage door. He smiled as he heard the front door open, then felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a warm breath against the back of his neck as a pair of soft lips found his skin. He turned and grinned at Brian, then dropped his cigarette on the porch and ground it out.

“Come on.” He threaded his fingers through Brian’s and led the man toward the garage. Once inside, Justin pushed Brian up against the wall and, smiling, began lightly nipping at his neck.

“Is this why you asked me out here?” Brian asked quietly, his hazel eyes shining.

“Nope.” Justin reached down and unzipped Brian’s jeans, then dropped to his knees and looked up at his partner. “This is.”

 

“Bri?”

“Hm?”

“Maybe we should go inside. We’ve been out here a while.” Justin slipped his hands out from the inside of Brian’s coat, where he had placed them a few minutes earlier to keep warm, and looked up at the taller man.

“Yeah, I suppose,” he replied, sighing.

“Your talk with him was that bad?”

“I told him not to make me choose, because he wouldn’t like my choice.”

“Fuck. Brian, I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Mikey’s put himself in this situation all on his own.” Leaning closer, he pressed a soft kiss to Justin’s lips. “Come on, let’s go inside and get this over with.” He wrapped an arm around Justin’s waist and slipped his hand into the back pocket of the younger man’s jeans.

“My, my, don’t we look . . . flushed,” Emmett commented with a grin as they hung up their coats once again.

“Yeah, it’s starting to get cold out,” Justin replied with a smile, pushing up his sleeves and wandering over to Finlay, who was standing, using the side of his playpen for balance.

“If I didn’t know better . . .” Vic shifted his gaze back and forth between the two men, his voice trailing off when Deb made her way downstairs, her brow furrowed. She immediately made her way over to Brian.

“What the fuck did you say to my son?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Nothing that didn’t need to be said,” Brian replied, sidestepping Debbie and making his way over to Justin and Finlay. He leaned over and picked up the little blonde-haired boy, setting him on his feet and letting Justin grip his hands and help him walk. Then he turned and looked back at Deb. “He needed to know the truth, that he and I would never be a couple. He should have known that all along.”

“You strung him along, Brian, always making him think that he stood a chance.”

“No I didn’t! I’ve always told him that it wouldn’t work, that it was best we stayed friends. For Christ’s sake, Deb, I don’t think even _he_ thought I would ever want to stop the tricking and settle down.”

“Well, all I know is my kid’s sitting upstairs with his boyfriend, crying his eyes out, and it’s your fault.”

“That’s unfair, Debbie,” Justin remarked, as he allowed Finlay to slowly take a few steps. “It’s not Brian’s fault if Michael can’t get over his teenage crush. Eventually you just have to move on.”

“And just what the fuck do you know about real life and moving on? You’re eighteen fucking years old!”

“I know how old I am, and I know what I’ve gone through, and I most definitely know how to move on, and I don’t need you telling me I don’t just because I’m young.”

“Excuse me?”

“Things have happened in my life that you can’t even begin to imagine, so don’t try treating me like some naïve kid, because I’m not.” He studied the woman for a moment. “Look, I understand your need to protect your son, I really do. I’ll probably be the same way even when Finlay is Michael’s age. But that doesn’t give you the right to trample all over everyone else.” He guided Finlay over to Brian and stood looking at his partner. “Let’s go say goodbye to Gus and go home. I’m starting to get a headache from all this bickering.”

“Good idea.” He wandered over to Gus’s collapsible crib and peered at his son, who was now wide awake. Carefully extracting him from the crib, he held the baby securely in his arms and lightly rocked him. “Hey, Sonnyboy. I have to go home, but I’ll come visit you at your mom’s this weekend, okay? I promise. And maybe sometime soon we can spend an entire day together.” He pressed a light kiss to Gus’s cheek, then gently settled him in his crib. Turning, he looked at the group for a moment. “Don’t forget to call me tomorrow, Emmett, around noon. Call the cell number. Wish I could say it’s been a pleasure . . .” He looked at Justin, then smiled and reached down to Finlay, picking the boy up and holding him against his side. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

Brian carried his cup of coffee into the living room and settled on the couch beside Justin. The younger man had covered himself with a light blue fleece throw and was scanning the pages of his history textbook. He sipped the steaming brew, then set the cup on the footlocker.

“I really am sorry about how tonight went,” Justin said quietly, folding over the page he was on and closing his book.

“I didn’t really expect much else.”

“But you hoped for it.”

“Yeah, I guess. I thought they’d be happy about it. Especially Deb. I can’t even begin to recount all the times she’s told me to grow up, stop the tricking, stop the partying, and act like an adult for a change. And now, just when I think I’ve gotten to that point . . I just don’t understand it, I really don’t.”

Justin set his book on the footlocker, then scooted over until he was leaning against the older man. “I think they want you to grow up but on their terms. They see what they want to see, and what they see isn’t necessarily reality. They don’t know who you are at this exact moment. It’s kind of like what Emmett said in the diner the other day . . . they know the you from five years ago. It’s gonna take them time to get to know who you are now.” He turned slightly, making Brian turn with him, and slid between Brian’s legs until he was resting on his side against Brian’s chest. “You have such a strong heartbeat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”


	4. Clarity

“Emmett’s meeting us here, right?” Justin asked as he poked his head out of the bathroom and peered at Brian, as the other man busily typed on his laptop in the living room.

“Yeah, in about twenty minutes. Though he has a tendency to be late to everything.” He closed the computer, then slid it into his briefcase and set the case on the footlocker. “Are we taking Finlay with us or is Daphne coming over?”

“Daphne’s coming, she should be here in a few minutes. It’ll just be easier that way, I think. Then I can help a little with carrying your stuff out to the car. I know with my arm like it is I’m not going to be that much of a help, but I can carry some stuff. And I kind of wanted to see the loft again before the work starts.”

“Yeah, so do I.” He stood and walked over to the bathroom door, studying the younger man as he quickly ran a comb through his slightly long blonde hair. “I kind of wish Emmett wasn’t going with us.”

“One last fuck in the loft before construction begins?”

“Something like that.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of Justin’s neck at the exact moment the buzzer sounded. “Fuck!”

“Obviously not, since Daphne’s here. Can you get that?”

“Yes dear,” Brian replied in a falsetto as he exited the bathroom.

“I heard that.”

Brian laughed as he made his way to the door. Opening it, he spotted Daphne stepping off the elevator. “Hey, darlin’,” he drawled. “Come on in.” He held the door open as she stepped into the apartment.

“Hi Brian. So where’s Finlay?”

“Taking a nap. He was up at the crack of dawn this morning.”

“Yeah, that’s fun,” she commented, dropping her backpack onto the couch, then slipping out of her pea coat and draping it over the back of the couch.

“Hey, Daph.” Justin wandered out of the bathroom, coming to a stop beside Brian. “Thanks for watching Finlay for us.”

“It’s not like I can pass up the opportunity to hang with the little guy.”

“He does grow on you, doesn’t he?” Brian said, a grin spreading across his lips. Then he turned to Justin. “Um, baby, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Emmett’s going to be here soon and you’re still in your pajama pants.”

“Hey, you’re the label queen of the family. It only takes me ten minutes to get dressed. I don’t have to stand in front of my closet and decide which is better, the Prada or the Armani.”

“Don’t forget the Dolce & Gabbana.”

“Of _course_ , who could forget _them?_ ”

“We’re never gonna make it if you can’t at least appreciate high fashion, even if you refuse to acknowledge its importance in life.” Leaning forward, he pressed a light kiss to Justin’s lips, then smiled at him. “You look great in whatever you wear, anyway. Doesn’t matter if it’s not couture.” He lightly fingered Justin’s blonde locks. “Now get your ass in gear, we don’t have all day.”

“Fucker.”

“That’s me.” He grinned as he watched Justin wander off toward the bedroom, taking note of the slight sway of his hips and the way the pajamas molded to his perfectly round ass. Yeah, maybe it really _didn’t_ matter if he bought his clothes at Old Navy, as long as they showcased the young man’s finest feature.

 

“I still can’t believe you’re having renovations done on the loft,” Emmett said as the three men rode the rickety old elevator up to the top floor. “I thought you were never going to change it. That is, unless home fashion trends changed drastically.”

“Gotta change with the times, I guess,” Brian replied, as the elevator stopped. A few moments later the three men stood just inside the loft door, taking note of the pristine condition of the apartment—a condition that was bound to change the moment the contractors started cutting a hole in the floor to build the staircase.

“So how long is this all supposed to take?”

“It’s supposed to be finished in time for Thanksgiving. There’s not a lot to do, really,” Justin supplied as Brian wandered over to the blueprints that were spread out on the white oval kitchen table. “Come here, we’ll show you.”

“Okay, this is what’s happening,” Brian remarked, pointing it out to Emmett on the blueprints. “I own the top three floors of this building. So what we’re doing is connecting all of those floors with staircases. We’re moving the kitchen out of the loft, and putting it on the first floor. The loft is going to be the master suite, basically. The second floor is going to have rooms for Finlay and Gus. We’re going to have an informal living room, as well. Also, a laundry room, two bathrooms, and an art studio that could also double as my office. The first floor is going to be mainly for entertaining. Formal living room, large kitchen and dining room, and three guest rooms, plus two bathrooms.”

“Impressive. Have you decided how you’re going to decorate it?” Emmett asked, still gazing at the prints. 

“I think it’s going to be a mix, actually.” Justin looked at his partner and smiled. “Since the first floor is going to be formal, and mostly just for guests, we want it to be inviting, but classic, and with clean lines. Minimal decoration. Basic colors for the walls, a few pieces of art, some plants.”

“The second floor is going to be a bit more . . . chaotic, I guess. We still need to figure out all the details, but it’s definitely going to be homier than what I currently have. It’s gotta be able to stand up to young kids. No more white sofas.”

“Well I, for one, can’t wait to see it. I’m sure it’ll be fabulous.”

“We’ll give you the first guided tour,” Justin promised, smiling up at the lankier man.

A short time later, while Emmett carefully covered the sofa with a large sheet of plastic, Justin made his way into the bedroom and found Brian sitting on the bed staring at the contents of his closet.

“Maybe I should just bring them all with me.”

“You’ll never wear them all in the space of three weeks.”

“Well, yeah, but what if something happens to them?”

“Bri, they’re just clothes. You can get new ones.” He sank down beside the older man, then scooted over until they were resting shoulder to shoulder. “You don’t want to leave, do you?”

“It’ll still be the same place when we move back in. Basically, anyway. And there’ll be room for the kids. And . . . it’ll be a real home, not just the place where I sleep and fuck and get ready for work. It’ll be home.”

“Yeah, it will be. For all of us.”

“Hm.” He gazed around for a minute. “Maybe we should get a new bed. This one’s seen a bit too much action.”

“True. But I like the bed. Split the difference and get a new mattress?”

“Sounds good.”

“But first, I think maybe we should say our good-byes to the old mattress,” Justin suggested, leaning closer and nuzzling Brian’s neck. 

“What about Emmett?”

“Hm. I think we need more boxes. Send him to the U-Haul place to get some. I’m sure he won’t mind. And make sure he stays gone for at least an hour.”

“Yeah, I think we might need some coffee, too, while he’s at it.”

“And maybe something for lunch.”

“That sounds like a plan.” He leaned over and lightly pecked Justin on the lips, then stood and made his way over to the open section of the glass partitions. “Emmett? I think we need more boxes. No way are all my clothes going to fit in what we have. And I don’t know about you, but I need some coffee. And, um . . . I’m thinking we could get some food and hang out at the apartment once we’ve got this stuff moved.”

“Oookaaay,” the other man replied, drawing the word out. “Um, and I take it I’m being sent on this purchasing mission?”

“You don’t mind, do you?” Justin asked as he came to stand beside his partner. “It’s just that if you do it, then we can make a dent in the stuff that needs to be packed, or covered with plastic and put in storage.”

“Oh. Um, sure. For a minute there, I thought maybe you were trying to get rid of me so you could fuck.”

“We fuck all the time. You think I’d let you drive my jeep just cause I want to fuck his sweet ass? I can do that when we get home. Caffeinated sustenance, on the other hand . . .”

 

“So how long do you think he’s going to be gone for?” Justin asked, rolling on top of Brian and running his index finger in a lazy circle around the older man’s left nipple.

“Hm . . . well, it’s already been forty-five minutes . . . and knowing Emmett, he’s just leaving the U-Haul place. Still has to get coffee and food, which he’ll probably do at the diner. And that’s not too far from here.”

“But he’ll probably get grilled by Debbie and by any of the boys who happen to be there. So that could tack on some additional time.”

“Sunshine, I do believe you’re right about that,” Brian replied with a grin. “We might just have time for a nice hot shower.”

“Blowjobs, too, of course.” Justin rolled off Brian and stood up, walking in the direction of the bathroom, listening to the rustle of the sheets as Brian climbed out of bed as well.

“Of course.” He made his way to the younger man and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing their sweat-dampened skin together. “There’s always time for blowjobs.”

 

Often, when they were alone together, Brian would find himself standing behind Justin, his arms wrapped around the younger man’s waist and his chin resting on his smooth, pale shoulder. It was as though he needed to mold himself to his partner to keep himself grounded, to keep himself whole . . . to remind himself that Justin wasn’t going anywhere and that whatever they faced would be faced together.

“Brian?”

“Hm?” His eyes shifted upward and he met Justin’s blue gaze in the bathroom mirror. 

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.” He pressed a kiss to Justin’s shoulder, then to the back of his neck. “Come on, we should get dressed before Emmett comes back,” Brian remarked, stepping through the open bathroom door and into the bedroom.

“Well, you’re just a tad too late for that.”

“Hey, Em.” Brian grinned at the other man, who was standing in the kitchen, a stack of folded boxes propped against the counter, and cups of coffee in his hands. Brian unwrapped the towel from around his waist, then pulled on his jeans. “Coffee smells great.”

“Yeah, um, Brian? What happened to waiting until you got home?”

“Well, technically, we _are_ home.”

“Stop playing word games, Kinney. All you had to do was say you wanted to fuck. I would have made myself scarce.”

“Hey, Emmett.” Justin shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants and sauntered down the bedroom steps. “Thanks for doing all that running around for us.”

“You don’t fool me, I know you were fucking.” Emmett crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at the younger man. “And, were I in the same position, you two can bet your asses I’d send you out for a hell of a lot more than coffee.”

“I’m never, ever betting my ass on anything,” Justin replied, reaching for a cup of coffee. “It’s way too valuable.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Shut up.” Justin lightly smacked Brian’s bare stomach with the back of his hand.

Brian took the cup from his hand, sipped the coffee, then set the cup down again. “Come on, things to do.” He picked the younger man up and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Brian!”

“Hm?”

“While I’m enjoying the view from back here, can you please explain why you’ve just slung me over your shoulder?”

“Cause the view from here is even better,” he replied, lightly smacking Justin’s cargo-clad ass. He carried Justin over to the plastic-covered sofa and carefully dropped him onto it, then leaned over and gently licked his lips before kissing him.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Justin murmured a moment later, sliding his fingers over Brian’s bony ribcage.

“Mm hm.” Brian lightly kissed Justin one more time, then stood and helped the other man up.

“So, are you two going to Babylon tonight?” Emmett asked from where he was perched on a barstool, coffee in hand.

“I don’t know.” Brian wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulders and guided the younger man back over to the kitchen. “It would be fun—we haven’t been there in a while. But I don’t know if we’ll be able to convince Daphne to stay with Finlay tonight, since she’s already given up her day.”

“You haven’t been there in weeks, Brian. It’s just not the same without you.”

“Well, you and the rest of the boys will have to find someone else to live vicariously through.” Brian wrapped his arms around Justin’s waist and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Now, let’s get this finished.”

 

Brian sat on the couch, cradling a sleeping Finlay against his chest. He looked down at the little boy, taking in his blonde hair and rosy cheeks, and smiled slightly at the miniature copy of Justin. As he did, he couldn’t help wondering how much Gus would grow to resemble him . . . and resent him. He’d never intended to have all that active a role in his son’s life, believing that while he may have wanted to be a father at some point, that it just wasn’t the right thing for him to do—it was too likely that he’d inherited his father’s volatile temper. Still, the more time he spent with Justin and Finlay, the more he realized that he was nothing like his own father, that he could be the kind of parent his son deserved.

“You okay?” Justin asked, stepping behind the couch and leaning over to wrap his arms around his shoulders.

“Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Gus.” With his free hand, he lifted Justin’s arm and lightly kissed the silver bracelet encircling his wrist. “I need to talk to Lindsay. Figure out what her whole attitude change is about.” He glanced down at Finlay again. “When she was pregnant she kept insisting that I accept my role as a parent. I resisted it the entire time. Didn’t go to her appointments, didn’t really show much interest in seeing the sonogram . . . but when Gus was born . . .”

“Reality set in.”

“Yeah, something like that. I don’t want him to grow up wondering where the fuck I was, why I didn’t want to spend time with him. I don’t want him thinking I don’t love him.”

“You know I’ll support whatever actions you take to make that a reality because even though Gus has two mothers who love him, he deserves a father, too.”

“Two fathers.”

“Even better.” Justin lightly kissed the back of Brian’s neck. “Come on, let’s put Finlay to bed.”

“And after that?”

“Well, if you don’t know the answer to that . . .” 

 

The next day Brian found himself standing under the front archway leading to the sidewalk to Muncher Villa. He couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why they had insisted upon painting their home pink. Perhaps it was an homage to pussy. And perhaps that was the most disturbing thought he’d ever had. Repressing a shudder, he made his way up the sidewalk.

“Brian!” Lindsay exclaimed as she opened the front door. “What are you doing here?”

“Was just in the neighborhood. Thought maybe we could talk.” He stepped inside and gazed around the entryway. “Is Mel here?”

“Um, no, she went to the grocery store. You just missed her.”

“Okay.” He made his way into the living room, removing his coat as he did so. “Gus upstairs?”

“Just put him down for a nap,” she replied.

“Good, then we shouldn’t be disturbed.” He sat down, taking note of the way Lindsay’s eyes shifted to the silver bracelet encircling his wrist. “I want to know why this is bothering you so much.”

“Why what is bothering me?” Her voice caught on the second word, ratcheting up an octave as she spoke, the way it always did when the upcoming discussion was of a less than desirable topic.

“Don’t act so fucking clueless, Lindz. My relationship with Justin. Why the hell is it an issue for you?” He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her, taking note of the way her perfectly sculpted eyebrows knit together as she tried to think of an appropriate answer. “And tell me the truth, because I’m fucking sick of everyone’s bullshit lately.”

“Fine.” She crossed her legs and began twisting her gold ring around her finger. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate that you’re involved with someone so young. You’re practically old enough to be his father.”

“He’s only twelve years younger than me.”

“And he’s barely eighteen, Brian! You don’t think twelve years is quite the age difference?”

“Of course I do, I’d be fucking stupid to think it wasn’t a huge difference. But it’s not important because we’re on the same level mentally.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“You don’t see it because you don’t know him, Lindz. And you’re making it really difficult for him to want to get to know you. He knows you look down on him and as tough as he is, on some level that has to really bother him.” He paused to study her for a moment. “And it seems to me that even though you disapproved of my seeing him from the very beginning, you didn’t show such obvious hatred toward him until you became aware of Finlay.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then explain it to me.”

“A child’s place is with his mother.”

“Well, I’m sure if Finlay’s mother were still alive he would be spending a lot of time with her. If she were still alive Justin would never have moved to Pittsburgh,” he said, taking note of Lindsay’s surprise at learning of Finlay’s mother’s death. “But that can’t possibly be the only reason for your animosity toward Justin.”

“Dammit, Brian!” She stood and began pacing around the living room. “I don’t like that you’re spending so much time with him, that you’re spending so much time with his son, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because you should be spending time with Gus!”

“And didn’t I come over just last week to see about that possibility? And what did you say? That since I’d signed my rights over to Mel that I wasn’t actually Gus’s parent anymore. And you know that’s a fucking load of bullshit. I will _always_ be Gus’s father, whether you like it or not. And Mel will always be his other mother, even if I’m included in his life. So why shouldn’t I provide a similar function for Finlay?”

“Because you’re _not_ his father—you’re Gus’s father!” Lindsay collapsed onto the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other, Lindz! That’s my point! I can love them both. And Justin, too.”

“But you’re supposed to love Gus more.”

“Why? Because he’s my biological son? My loving Justin and Finlay takes _nothing_ away from him. If anything, it provides him with a second family. He’ll have an older brother he can grow up with . . . he won’t be an only child. He’ll have four parents instead of two. He’ll have more people to turn to when he needs it. I don’t see any downside to this, Lindz.”

“Christ, Brian! You’re supposed to experience all those childhood ‘firsts’ with Gus, okay? He’s supposed to be the first child you help learn to crawl and walk, the first to call you ‘Daddy.’ That’s how it’s supposed to be! And that’s supposed to be shared with me, since I’m his mother.” She wiped away an errant tear. “You’re not supposed to experience that with someone else, with someone else’s child. You’re supposed to experience it with me and Gus. That’s it. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Listen to me, Lindz, okay? Because I’m not saying this again because I’m tired of going in circles. I love Justin. I love Finlay. _And_ I love Gus. I will _not_ give up any of them. You don’t have to like Justin, but I expect you to be nice to him, to his son, and to respect both my relationship with Justin and my relationship with his son. And I also expect you to respect my rights as Gus’s biological father. While I’m at it, I expect you to respect Justin enough to not pitch a fit if I want to have Gus spend a weekend with the two of us.”

“I don’t want Gus getting attached to him.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because he’ll start to think of him as a second father, and he’s not. And when the two of you split up, Gus will be devastated.”

“Look, I know this all seems sudden to everyone, and I know you never expected me to settle down. And you especially didn’t expect me to willingly become a father to another man’s child. But that’s how it is. The fact of the matter is I’m Gus’s father, so Justin will be his _other_ father. He and I both want that, just as he wants me to be Finlay’s other father. That is non-negotiable. And as for the two of us splitting up, I really don’t see that happening. I don’t make commitments lightly, Lindsay, you know that. You’ve known me for ten years now, you know I don’t jump into anything, least of all relationships. But if we were to split up, I know for a fact that Justin’s commitment to Gus would remain the same.”

“And you know that how?”

“Because I know what kind of father he is. More than that, I know what kind of man he is. He has more honor and more integrity than you could possibly imagine.” He leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on his knees and his palms together. “Look, I know you want me to be there for Gus, and I’m trying to do that, to make the effort, but I really don’t think you’re helping me out much in that department. I’ll still be here for Gus’s firsts, as much as I can be, anyway, and those firsts of his will still be firsts for me, because he’s my son. I may have helped Finlay walk before I help Gus walk, but it won’t take anything away from Gus. I wasn’t around when Finlay learned to sit up or crawl or talk. I never heard his first laugh. I want to be there for Gus when all of those things happen.” Standing, he picked up his coat and slipped his arms into it. “Just give us all a chance, Lindz, okay? Because I really think you and Justin have more in common than you might expect, and I think if you gave him a chance you might actually end up liking him. I’ll see you later.”

 

Justin gazed at the letter in his hand. The moment he saw the return address—the district attorney’s office—he knew what was contained within the envelope. Yet he had opened it anyway, and there it was, neatly typed on the D.A.’s letterhead. An official letter of notice of Ethan Gold’s upcoming sentencing. His eyes zeroed in on one particular sentence— _Should you wish to speak at the sentencing, please notify our offices as soon as possible, as sentencing is scheduled for November 12th._ He took some deep breaths and tried to calm his racing heart, then folded the letter and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Half an hour later, Finlay held securely in his left arm and the diaper bag slung over his right shoulder, he made his way into the lobby of Brian’s building. Mary was once again manning the front desk and, again, she didn’t recognize him.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, um, I need to see Brian Kinney. Can you just call up to his office and talk to Cynthia? Tell her I need to see him.”

“You do realize that Mr. Kinney runs an advertising agency and not a daycare?” She glared down her nose at Finlay, then shifted her gaze back to Justin. 

“Excuse me? Fine.” He reached into the side pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out his cell phone. He hit speed dial and was rewarded a moment later as Cynthia answered.

“Brian Kinney’s office, Cynthia speaking.”

“Hi, Cynthia, it’s Justin.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I was just wondering if Brian’s around?”

“He’s on a conference call, but it should be wrapping up pretty soon.”

“Would it be okay if I came up and waited for him?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Are you downstairs?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t Mary call up?”

“Because she seems to think I’m under the impression that Brian runs a daycare, and not an advertising agency. That’s an exact quote, by the way,” he remarked, cutting his eyes at Mary, who visibly paled.

“I’ll be right down.”

“Thanks, Cynthia. Sorry to drag you away from your work.”

“Not a problem. Be right there.”

Justin closed his phone and returned it to his pocket, glaring at Mary again for a moment before setting his wriggling son on the floor, making sure to hold onto the boy’s hand so he wouldn’t fall.

“Da!”

“What?”

“Dat!” The little boy pointed at one of the palm trees and giggled.

“That would be a palm tree.”

“See tee!”

“Uh huh.”

“Tee, Da!” Finlay exclaimed, giggling again.

“Yes, it’s a very big tree,” Justin replied, grinning at his son as the elevator doors opened and Cynthia, clad in a navy blue suit and heels, stepped out. She smiled at him, then nodded her head in Mary’s direction, before heading over to the other woman.

“Is there a problem, Mary?” she asked quietly, but not so quietly that Justin couldn’t hear her.

“Um, no, why do you ask?”

“Because I understand that Mr. Taylor asked you to call Mr. Kinney’s office and you were exceedingly rude to him and refused to make the requested call.” She pushed a strand of wavy blonde hair behind her ear. “In the future I suggest you try being a little nicer to those who enter this building. And, Mary, for the record, Mr. Taylor and his son are always welcome in Mr. Kinney’s office. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Ms. Monroe.”

“Then I trust there’ll not be a repeat of this in the future? Because if you think there will be you might want to brush up on your job interview skills.” She smiled sweetly at the other woman. “Have a nice afternoon.” Turning quickly on her slender heels, she made her way over to Justin.

“Thanks, Cynthia.”

“No problem. If she doesn’t act a little more civil next time, trust me, she’ll be out on her ass.” She looked down at Finlay and grinned. “Hey, little man.”

“Hi.”

“He’s picking up words left and right lately,” Justin remarked, leaning over and picking up Finlay, then walking with Cynthia toward the bank of elevators. “It’s kind of amazing.”

“I can only imagine.”

“I’m really sorry you had to come down and get me.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not a problem.” She studied him for a moment, then said, “Was Brian expecting you to stop by?”

“No, it was kind of an impulsive decision on my part,” he remarked as the elevator stopped and they stepped onto the executive floor. They made their way down the hall and around the corner to Brian’s office suite. Once inside, Justin set Finlay on the floor and dropped his diaper bag onto the coffee table, then sank tiredly onto the sofa.

“Are you okay? Do you want something to drink?”

“Water would be fine,” he replied quietly as the door to Brian’s office opened and the taller man stepped out.

“Hey, Cyn, I need you to run down to the art department and check on the boards for Emerson’s.”

“Tee!”

Brian turned and found himself looking at his partner and Finlay. He immediately noticed the small lines of worry that had formed between Justin’s eyebrows. Leaning over, he picked up Finlay, then carried the boy to the sofa and sat beside Justin. He pressed a light kiss to the younger man’s lips. “What’s wrong?”

“Um . . . can we go into your office?”

“Sure.” He turned to his assistant. “Cyn? Can you watch Finlay for a few minutes?”

“Sure. Come here, little man,” she replied, taking the boy from Brian.

Once inside Brian’s office, the older man closed the door, then reached for Justin’s left hand. He lightly kissed his palm, then studied his eyes for a moment. “So what’s going on?”

“Um . . . a letter came for me today. And it kind of freaked me out. You know how my doctor said I might have panic attacks from time to time? Um . . . I think I had one a little while ago, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here.” He reached into his back pocket and removed the letter. “This came from the DA’s office.”

Brian took the letter and studied it for a moment. Then his shifted his eyes back to his partner. “Do you know what you want to do?”

“No. I think I need more time to think about it. I mean, I’ve thought about it a little, ever since Horvath mentioned it, but I haven’t really given it much thought in the last couple of weeks. Been too wrapped up in everything else, I guess. Getting back on track with Fin, therapy, now we’ve got the renovations and the trip to Chicago . . . just been too busy to think about it. I’d somehow managed to put it out of my mind.”

“I’ll support whatever decision you make, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Stepping back, but keeping a finger hooked in Brian’s belt loop, he looked up at the older man and offered a small smile. “Sorry for freaking out on you.”

“You didn’t freak out. And lucky for you I have my entire lunch hour completely free.” 

“Hm, true. But it wouldn’t be seemly for the boss to have a quickie in his office, would it?”

_“Fuck_ seemly.”

“Fuck _me_.”

“If you insist, Blondie.”

“I know, it’s such a hardship for you,” Justin replied with a grin, tugging Brian toward the sofa by his belt loop.

“Hard, yes, hardship, never.” He pushed Justin lightly onto the sofa, moved to the door and locked it, then stepped over to his desk and pushed the button on his intercom. “Cyn? If anyone asks, I’m at lunch. Think you can handle the little rugrat for an hour?”

“Um, sure.”

“Buzz if you need anything.” Turning, he slipped out of his suit jacket and laid it over the back of a chair, then looked at Justin again, taking in the way the younger man’s eyes drifted appreciatively along his frame. “We’re wasting valuable time here, baby.”

“Then get your skinny ass back over here,” he replied with a laugh, reaching for Brian’s belt once again, this time pulling him down until they were laying chest to chest on the plush office couch.

“Better?” Brian asked, his voice muffled as his lips connected with the underside of Justin’s jaw.

“Much,” he whispered, pulling Brian’s shirt from his pants and running his hands over the smooth skin of the older man’s back. In no way would he ever tire of this, of Brian above him, the older man’s lips on his body, his fingers lightly drifting over Brian’s lightly-tanned skin. 

 

Justin gazed around the psychiatrist’s dimly-lit wood-paneled office. When he had initially brought up the question of therapy he had thought Brian would scoff at the idea, but instead the older man had told him to do whatever he needed to do to be happy. So, three days following his panic attack, here he was, talking to a psychiatrist who came highly recommended by Dr. Rashid.

“So, you mentioned that you had a panic attack? Do you know what may have caused it?” the woman asked.

“Yeah. You know about my attack a couple weeks ago, right?”

“Of course.” 

Of course. Not only had she more than likely received a file about him from both Dr. Rashid and his physical therapist, but the story had been a choice tidbit on the local news. They had tried to paint it as a lover’s triangle, practically making it seem as though he had deserved it.

“I got a letter from the D.A.’s office. I can speak at Ethan’s sentencing if I want to.”

“All right. We’ll get to that in a moment.” Her pen scratched across her steno pad. “Let’s talk about the actual attack itself. Not the panic attack, but the assault against you. Do you think there might have been a way to prevent it?”

“I don’t know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking note of the dull pounding in the back of his skull. “I don’t think so. I didn’t know Ethan felt so strongly. He only asked me out a few times.”

“What do you think he felt for you?”

“I don’t know. Obsession, maybe. He couldn’t have loved me.”

“Why do you say that?” 

“Because.” He tilted his head back until he could look at her again, his artists eye zeroing in on the way in which spots of gray appeared intermittently throughout her dark brown hair. “You don’t hurt people you love. Not like that. You may say things, sometimes, that cut them, and you may even do it intentionally, but if you love someone, you don’t try and kill them.”

“Do you think the lines may have blurred for him?”

“What, like his love for me became this all-consuming, burning passion, and when I declined his request for a date, he took that as a personal rejection?”

“Possibly.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he was thinking when he did this to me! I want some control over my life again, that’s what I want. It’s bad enough that I can’t use my hand, that I can barely pick up my son without help, but I am not going to take the blame for his actions! And I can’t keep running to people for help. I need to be able to handle whatever the hell got fucked up in my mind when he hit me with that bat.”

“This isn’t about assigning blame, Justin, it’s about figuring out what it is that you have control over and maximizing those things while we work on the rest.” She smiled slightly, then looked down at her notes again. “All right, let’s talk about the panic attack. You said it was triggered by the letter from the district attorney?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you do when the panic initially set in?”

“I went to Brian.”

“And who is Brian?”

“My partner.”

“All right. So Brian is your touchstone?”

“Yeah.”

“Was he able to help? Did the panic start to subside when you saw him?”

“Yes. But I can’t . . . I can’t run to him every time this happens. He has a business to run, he spends most of his days in meetings and going over campaigns and budgets . . . I can’t ask him to be on call twenty-four seven just in case I freak out.” He sighed and looked out the window for a moment before turning back to the older woman who sat across from him. “And what happens if my son gets sick? I work myself up into enough of a panic when that happens as it is, I don’t need this on top of that. If something serious happens and I end up having another one of these panic attacks, how am I supposed to take care of him?” He raised his left hand and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I just want things back to normal.” He sighed, then listened as her pen scratched across the pad some more.

 

“Are you okay?” Brian asked as the two men made their way toward the front steps of the Allegheny County courthouse.

“Yeah. I need to do this. I think if I don’t, on some level, I’ll never really move past it. And I’ll always regret not doing it.”

“Did you tell Dr. Pierson? What did he have to say about it?”

“She thinks it’s a good idea.” Justin came to a stop, halting Brian as well, at the base of the steps. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“I always come with you.” He grinned at Justin for a moment before the younger man lightly smacked his coat-clad ribcage with the back of his hand. “Hey, owww! Stop abusing me!”

“Not what you said last night.”

“Last night was in an entirely different context.” He reached over and slipped his right hand into Justin’s left, weaving their fingers together, then raised Justin’s hand and kissed the porcelain skin just below the silver cuff bracelet. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I’m going to be okay, Brian.”

 

Justin stood and stared at Ethan, his hands gripping either side of the podium. The other man’s perpetually greasy hair had been washed, and the scruffy little bit of a goatee that he had always favored was no longer present. He sat stiffly in the hard wooden chair behind the defendant’s table, his lawyer at his side, two others, most likely his parents, sitting directly behind him.

The blonde reached up and pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. His blue gaze shifted to Brian for a moment, taking in the way the other man sat there, exuding calmness and confidence, when Justin was sure that deep down he felt neither, but grateful that he could fake it well enough, for the time being, to keep him from totally breaking down. And when Brian smiled slightly, and nodded, he knew he could say what he needed to say.

“I suppose,” he began, shifting his eyes back to Ethan, “that you expect some sort of forgiveness. And in a way I wish I could give it. Not for you, but for me. But I can’t give it, and I won’t stand here and pretend that I can. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what it was in your mind that made it possible for you to take a baseball back and crack my skull open with it, simply because I turned you down the few times you asked me out. That’s not a normal reaction. I was never mean about turning you down, never demeaning. I tried my best to let you know that I simply wasn’t interested.

“Maybe it was because I’d been seeing someone else. I never hid that fact, Ethan, I never claimed to be single when I wasn’t. And when I claimed to have family obligations, that was the truth. I never lied to you. I never misled you. But for some reason, known only to you, you found it appropriate to take out your frustration through violence. And in doing so you did the one thing I can never forgive—you almost cost my son his father.” He watched as the formerly greasy-haired man raised his head and looked at him, shock evident in his eyes.

“I don’t owe you any explanations with regard to my son. I will say this, though—had you succeeded in killing me, as you seem to have wished to do, my son would have been left an orphan before his first birthday. And that is not something I can forgive you for. I can’t forgive you for causing me to miss three days of my child’s life while I was in a coma. I can’t forgive you for making me almost miss seeing him take his first steps. And I can’t forgive you for all of the pain that your actions have caused my partner, Brian. I’m generally a very forgiving person, Ethan, and had we become friends, you would have learned that. But when your actions hurt my family, my partner and my son, then I cannot, I _will not_ offer you forgiveness.”


	5. Clarity

Justin rolled onto his stomach and looked at his partner for a moment. He took note of the little crease between Brian’s eyes, a sure sign that he was pondering something. Leaning forward, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the man’s chest, then looked up at him.

“What are you thinking about?” He lightly scraped his finger across the semen that was drying on the older man’s chest.

“Daphne.”

“We spend an hour fucking, and you end up thinking about Daphne?” he asked with a grin.

“No. Yes. No, I was just thinking that maybe we should see if she can come to Chicago with us for a couple days. I mean, let’s face it, if we have to go see your parents things could get pretty ugly, and I know neither of us wants Finlay exposed to that. So if Daphne were there she could watch Finlay while we deal with your family. Plus, maybe we could even get out for a night, go to dinner, hit a club. It is your old stomping ground, after all.”

“Except for the fact that I never stomped there.”

“That’s beside the point. Anyway, it would be nice if we could have a little fun while we’re there. There’s going to be enough gloom and doom to last us a lifetime, I’m thinking. Daphne can watch Finlay for us for a little while, and then she can spend some time checking out the sights. Maybe she’ll meet a guy at an ice cream stand or wherever the fuck straight teenagers meet other straight teenagers.”

“Probably the same place gay teenagers meet other gay teenagers.” He raised his right hand, which had become considerably more reliable since he had started therapy, and began twisting Brian’s chestnut locks around his index finger. “She might not even want to go. And if she does, there’s no telling how her parents would feel about it.”

“You’ll never know unless you ask,” Brian remarked with a grin, rolling them over until he loomed over Justin. “So . . . ready for another round?”

“Always ready for that.” Smiling, he wrapped his legs around Brian’s waist, his right hand sliding to the back of Brian’s neck as their lips met.

 

“So how are you boys this lovely November morning?” Emmett asked a little later as Brian and Justin slid into the seat across from him.

“I’ll be better once I get some coffee,” Brian replied as Debbie rushed past their booth.

“Stop being so grumpy.” Justin leaned over and placed a light kiss on Brian’s neck just above the collar of his suit.

“Me, grumpy? Never. Deb! Coffee!”

“So I saw the blurb about the sentencing in the paper this morning,” Emmett said quietly. “Eighteen months? That’s a fucking slap on the wrist if I ever heard of one.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t totally unexpected. Mel told me it would probably amount to that. But at least I got to speak at the sentencing, so I feel a little better now,” Justin replied, stifling a yawn and resting his head against Brian’s shoulder.

“Jesus, Sunshine, you look exhausted!” Deb exclaimed, coming to a stop at their table. “You should go home and get some rest!”

“I’m fine, Deb. Besides, I have things to do today while Finlay’s at daycare.”

“There’s nothing more important than getting your rest! You need to take care of yourself so you can take care of that little angel!”

“Leave it alone, Deb. Can I get a cup of coffee and some whole wheat toast, no butter?”

“And I’ll take the pancakes with strawberries and a glass of orange juice,” Justin intoned.

“What about you, Emmett?”

“Same as Justin’s, but with blueberries.” He turned back to the two men once Debbie had wandered toward the kitchen. “So, Brian, I know you’re probably going to work today, but what are your plans, Justin?”

“Actually, I’m heading over to Lowe’s.”

“Paint samples,” Brian supplied, when Emmett aimed a confused look at them. “The renovation is now in full swing, so Sam will be needing paint samples soon.”

“I thought we should paint everything ourselves, but no, we can’t do that.” Justin rolled his eyes as he grinned at Emmett.

“I can’t stand the smell of the fucking paint fumes. Besides, it might start out as fun, but the minute you got that shit in your hair and the second it got on my Prada boots, the fun would be over and we’d be screaming at each other about who’s fault it was that we were painting it ourselves in the first place,” he replied, as Deb set his coffee in front of him, then made her way to another booth. “Besides, by hiring people to do it, we’re spurring the local economy and supporting a small business.”

“So that’s what the A stands for—altruistic,” Emmett replied with false amazement.

“At least you agreed to look at the colors I pick out.”

“Though I could honestly give a fuck, provided it’s not entirely offensive.” He leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Justin’s lips. “I trust you, you know. I know you’re not going to paint the walls pink or anything.”

“Yeah, pink’s not really my thing. Maybe lavender . . .”

“Do you want me to start tickling you right here in the diner, in front of everyone, so they can hear that little-girl screech of yours?” Brian threatened, grinning at his partner.

“I prefer my screaming to be done in the bedroom, thank you very much.”

“Oh? Tell, tell!” 

“Um, Emmett? No.” Brian grinned widely at him, a display that was rarely seen by anyone other than Justin, Finlay, and Gus. “Just use your imagination.”

“Okay, I think we’ve talked about this enough.”

“Suddenly prudish, are we?”

“Brian . . .”

“Brian!” The familiar whine caught them all off-guard and instantly wiped the smiles off their faces.

“Hey, Michael,” Brian replied quietly, as Michael slid into the booth across from him, forcing Emmett against the wall.

“What the fuck is going on? I haven’t talked to you in a week, and then I stop by the loft to see you and my key doesn’t work. I heard voices, figured you were kicking out a trick or something, so I knocked on the door, and there are these guys in hardhats, and one of them was in the middle of cutting a fucking hole in your floor.” His eyes drifted over to Justin for a moment and a frown immediately came to the older man’s face.

“Well, guys in hardhats have always been entertaining,” Brian replied, setting his coffee cup down. “But, alas, I’m having renovations done on the loft. And you know I’m not tricking anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Hello?” Justin waved at Michael a little, a look of disbelief on his face. “I’m sitting right here, you know. His _partner,_ remember?”

“I’m talking to Brian.” Michael immediately dismissed the younger man. “You’ve never wanted to do renovations on the loft, the loft has always been your showplace. Fuck, it’s practically a landmark.”

“Fuck, Michael, that’s really low, even for you.” He glared at his friend as Justin reached over and began kneading the tenseness out of this neck.

“Not that we owe you any explanations, Michael, but the loft just isn’t big enough. We needed more room, and the only way to get that without completely moving was to renovate,” Justin remarked.

“And it’s going to be fabulous.” Emmett reached across the table and lightly patted Justin’s other hand. “What colors are you thinking of?”

“Well, you know the blue that I have at my apartment? Sort of really pale and almost white? I think that would be nice somewhere. I just need to find the name of it again.”

“That would be fabulous in the dining room.”

“Oh, yeah, with a really dark table, maybe even one with a black lacquer.”

“It could have a Japanese theme.”

“With bamboo in large pots on the floor.”

“Hate to break it to you, Blondie, but we’re sure as hell not having anything with a Japanese theme. Though I like the blue. And dark furnishings would be nice. But it’s a definite no on the Japanese theme.”

“Brian!”

“What, Michael?” He turned back to his longtime friend and returned his coffee cup to its saucer. 

“Why are you renovating the loft?”

“Justin just told you why. We need more room. It just makes sense to renovate, since we both like the loft and the location of the building.” He turned to Justin. “Oh, can you pick up some light bulbs while you’re there? The one over the kitchen sink went this morning.”

“Sure. So if the dining room is going to be that really light shade of blue, what should the kitchen be?”

“Depends on the counter tops,” Brian replied.

“So you’re just going to ignore me?” Michael demanded.

“I’m not ignoring you. We were in the middle of a conversation when you showed up demanding my attention.”

“But we haven’t talked in a week. We never go a week without talking.”

“And whose fault is that, Michael? You could have called me at work, we could have had lunch together or something and talked about all this shit again, but for some reason you feel the need to confront me here and force me into a discussion I really don’t want to have right now.” He glanced at the clock over the register. “I need to get going in a few minutes.”

“Those big, bad accounts calling your name?” Emmett asked.

“Something like that.” He looked at Justin. “You’re going to go crazy with the paint samples, aren’t you? I’ll get home and you’ll have those little cards all over the place.”

“It’s the artist in me, what can I say?” He pressed a light kiss to Brian’s lips. “Besides, the more choices we have, the more likely we’ll be to find the colors we want without bloodshed.”

“Get as many as you want, then.”

“Okay, so maybe we could have lunch this weekend and we could talk about this.” Michael’s eyes widened and took on that ‘little boy who lost his puppy’ look.

“I can’t. I’m busy this weekend.”

“Too busy to see me for an hour?”

“We’re going out of town.”

“What?” Michael looked from Brian to Justin and back again.

“I’m not going to be around this weekend. And I’ll probably be leaving my cell off most of the time I’m gone.”

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“Chicago.”

“Oh. You’re taking _him_ to Chicago?” He narrowed his eyes in Justin’s direction.

“Again, sitting right here, Michael. And, for your information, I’d already been planning to go to Chicago.”

“Then why do _you_ have to go?” Michael asked Brian.

“Michael . . .”

“No, Emmett, I deserve to know.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his best friend. “Why the fuck do you have to go to Chicago?”

“It’s really none of your business.” 

“Let it go, Michael,” Emmett advised.

“I will not fucking let it go.” He glared at the man in the Armani suit. “So I’ll ask again: why the fuck are you going to Chicago?”

“Stop it, Michael!” Emmett demanded, his eyes drifting to Justin as the younger man sat pushing the remains of his breakfast around his plate. “If they wanted to tell you why they’re going, then I’m sure they would.”

“I just don’t understand why it’s a big secret.”

“It’s not a secret.” Justin looked up, fixing the other man with an angry glare. “Just because I choose not to share things with you doesn’t mean I’m keeping them a secret. It means you treat me like shit every single time we see each other, so I really don’t feel compelled to share aspects of my life with you.” He folded his arms over his chest and carefully regarded Michael. “But since you’re not likely to stop bitching until I tell you, then fine—we’re going to visit my wife.” 

“I’m sure you can think up a better excuse than that. As if I’d buy that for a second.” He did nothing to disguise the chuckle that spilled from his lips.

“I don’t care what you believe, Michael. It’s honestly of no consequence to me.”

“Don’t tell me you believe this bullshit!” Michael turned his gaze toward Brian, taking in the man’s steely glare.

“Michael, maybe you should be quiet now,” Emmett remarked.

“Take Emmett’s advice, Michael,” Brian replied quietly. He turned to Justin. “I really need to get going. I have an early meeting. Although . . . I could cancel.”

“No, that’s okay.” He reached up, twisting his fingers in the hair at the back of Brian’s head, then pulling the man closer for a long kiss, culminating in a final lick of his bottom lip. “I’ll see you tonight. And we’re going to go over those paint samples.”

“Hm, maybe I should pick up another bottle of Beam, then.”

“Red wine? I’m making this chicken thing for dinner tonight, red wine should go really well with it.”

“Sure thing. You’re picking Finlay up?”

“Yeah. And I’m going to see about meeting up with Daphne.”

“Okay.” He leaned forward and pressed another kiss to Justin’s lips, then stood and pulled a twenty from his wallet. “Are you going to walk back and get your car or do you need a ride?”

“I think I’ll walk.”

“Okay. Later.”

“Later.” Justin watched as Brian left the diner, a small smile on his face, before turning back to Michael. “All right, Michael. Brian’s gone. Say whatever it is you want to say to me.”

“Um, maybe . . . “

“It’s okay, Emmett.”

“Fine. You really want to know? I think you’re a manipulative little shit. You expect any of us to believe that you’re married? You’re a fucking teenager, for Christ’s sake! And if you’re married, then what the fuck are you doing here, in Pittsburgh, instead of in Chicago with this imaginary wife of yours? And why the fuck are you messing with Brian if you’ve got a fucking wife back home waiting for you?”

“Like I said before, I don’t owe you any explanations, Michael.” He stood and pulled on his coat, then glared at the older man. “But, for your information, my wife is dead.” Then he turned and stormed out of the diner.

 

“Justin! Justin, wait up!”

Turning, the younger man saw Emmett running toward him, his red messenger bag slapping against his side and his rainbow scarf trailing in his wake. He came to a stop in front of a coffee shop and waited for Emmett to reach his side.

“Are you okay?” the older man asked, as he slowed and walked the remaining few feet to where Justin was standing.

“I’m fine, Emmett. I’m a lot tougher than I look.” He smiled slightly, then turned and began walking with the older man toward his apartment. “Do you have to work?”

“I’m not on until this afternoon.”

“Wanna come to Lowe’s with me for a bit, then?”

“Sure.”

“I guess I just don’t understand why Michael hates me so much. I know he has this infatuation with Brian, that he’s had it for years and nothing’s ever come of it, but you’d think that, in the back of his mind, he’d realize how unlikely it would be for Brian to spend the rest of his life alone,” Justin remarked a short time later as he unlocked his car and the two men climbed inside. “I just don’t understand why, if he loves Brian so much, he’d begrudge him some happiness.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t want Brian to be happy,” Emmett replied, as Justin started the car and pulled into traffic. “It’s that he never imagined Brian would be capable of being happy with someone other than him. He’s just always had this fantasy that when Brian gave up the tricks that he’d go right to Michael.” He studied the younger man for a moment. “Then there’s also the fact that you’re everything he’s not.”

“How so?”

“Well, you’re much younger than he is. Blonde, blue-eyed, hot, you have your own apartment, fuck, you even have a kid. Not that Michael ever really thought Brian could be a full-time dad, but now that he more or less is, that’s bound to be bothering him, too, because I’m sure Michael would like nothing more than to raise a child with Brian.”

“Honestly, though, Emmett, I’m not to blame for Michael’s unrequited lust for Brian. And I’m not going to let him steamroll me and make me feel guilty about what Brian and I have. If Brian does, then that’s up to him. We’ve talked about it, and he knows I’m not going to put up with Michael’s bullshit. If Brian wants to that’s his choice, but I’m not going to deal with it.”

“You shouldn’t have to, sweetie.”

“I just . . . I don’t want Brian to be put in the middle of all this. And I don’t want you to end up there, either. But especially Brian.” He stopped at a red light and glanced over at Emmett. “I know what everyone thinks, they think it’s practically unforgivable that I didn’t tell him about Finlay right from the beginning. And now they think we’re rushing everything. They hold my age against me, and think I don’t really love Brian because I’m too young to know what love is. But they don’t know, Emmett. They really _don’t_ know.” He stepped on the gas as the light changed to green.

“Well, let me tell you something about Brian Kinney. I’ve known Brian for about six years now, and in that time I’d never seen him able to relax without the use of various chemical substances. I can’t recall a time when he was ever content to be with just one person. Now, in the three months you’ve known each other, he’s changed. He doesn’t trick, at least not as far as I can tell, and he’s happy, despite the bullshit from Michael and Lindsay. I think if any of the other members of our little group who doubt the feelings the two of you have for each other had seen that little display of yours at the loft last week, they would understand.” He smiled as the younger man pulled into the Lowe’s parking lot and found a space relatively close to the entrance. “It goes beyond what any of the rest of us can see, doesn’t it?” he asked quietly, as Justin turned the key, killing the engine.

“Yeah.” A small smile found its way to his lips. “It does.”

“So . . . are you going to throw in some pinks and purples just to see Brian’s reaction?” Emmett asked, as they climbed out of the car.

“Hm, no. But maybe I could argue the fine points of salmon and how it’s not really pink.”

“I get the feeling you’d give Brian a run for his money in the persuasive bullshitting department.”

“I can give Brian a run for his money in many things,” he replied with an evil grin before turning and heading into the store.

 

Justin leaned against his car in front of the steps leading into St. James Academy. He was wearing a dark blue wool pea coat, with a lighter blue scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, his blonde hair brushing the top of the scarf. Gazing into the distance, he took note of the clouds moving toward the city and groaned inwardly at this sure sign that more snow was on its way. Slipping his cell phone from his pocket, he glanced at the display, noticing that it was nearly two o’clock. While he waited, he pushed a few buttons and listened to his messages, one from Brian reminding him to talk to Daphne and one from his mother with her usual pestering. He closed the phone and returned it to his pocket just as the bell inside the building sounded. 

As the students began to drift out of the building, he couldn’t help noticing the appreciative gazes some of the girls sent his way. In some ways he missed not having the normal high school experience. Most of the other students in his night classes were in their thirties and forties, and had decided to finish school just to prove to themselves that they could, not because they had very many further aspirations. But suddenly being surrounded by so many people his own age was a bit disconcerting, too. What did he have in common with any of them?

“Hi. I’m Katie. You don’t go to school here, do you?”

Justin was startled from his thoughts by a girl with blonde hair and braces. “No, I don’t. I’m waiting for a friend.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No, just a friend.”

“Do you have a girlfriend.”

“No.”

“Wanna hang out at the mall sometime?”

“No thanks.”

“Oh. Um . . . why not?”

“Cause I think that might upset my boyfriend,” he replied, spying Daphne exiting the building while deeply in conversation with another girl. Although ‘upset’ wasn’t quite apropos. Lead to mass fits of rare giggling, would probably be more apt. Nevermind that it would become one of those stories told over and over to make that red tint appear on Justin’s cheeks. “It was nice talking to you.” He flashed a quick smile, then turned and began climbing the steps, coming to a stop near Daphne and her friend.

“Justin! What are you doing here?” she asked, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug. “Oh, this is my friend, September. September, this is Justin.”

“Hi, September, it’s nice to meet you.”

“So how do you know Daphne?”

“I’ve told you about Justin, I babysit his son sometimes.”

“Oh. Oh! I guess I was expecting you to be older,” September replied hastily.

“Yeah, most people do.” He smiled slightly, then turned his attention back to Daphne. “Do you need a ride? Because I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.”

“I was going to get a ride . . .” she trailed, looking over at her other friend.

“Oh, that’s okay. Go ahead,” the other girl replied. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, September.” Turning, she linked her arm through Justin’s and began descending the steps with him. Once they were settled in the car she turned to him, curiosity evident in her expression. “So what’s going on?”

“I have a proposition for you. Actually, it’s from both Brian and I,” he replied, starting the car and pulling into traffic. “We were kind of hoping, if you want to, and if your parents agree, that you would be willing to spend the weekend in Chicago.”

“What? Why? I thought you were going to see your family?”

“We are, but it’s probably going to turn into a big fight, and I don’t want to expose Finlay to that. So we were thinking that if you came along you could watch Finlay while we’re dealing with some of the family shit. We were kind of hoping to get a night on the town in there, too. But aside from that your time is your own. We’ll set you up in your own room, and make sure you have enough spending money that you’ll have a good time. Sort of a working mini-vacation.”

“Really? That sounds awesome!”

“Do you think your parents would let you go?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Do you want me to talk to them?”

“That might be a good idea. My mom should be home. You could come in and meet her. Honestly, if she runs the idea by my dad, he might actually go for it.”

“So what do you think our chances are?” He turned to her and grinned before focusing his attention back on the road ahead of him. 

 

Daphne’s home was located in an upscale suburb just outside the city limits. Her house was a two-story with dormers and it had a white and brick exterior and an attached two-car garage. Accenting each side of the driveway were brick pillars topped with cast iron lighting fixtures. It almost reminded him of his old neighborhood in Chicago, although his parents had chosen a larger home within the city limits.

“Mom! I’m home!” Daphne shouted as soon as they had stepped over the threshold. She removed her coat, then turned to Justin. “We can just leave our coats here.” She gestured to the coat rack near the front door. “She’s probably in the kitchen.”

“Okay.” He hung up his coat and scarf, then followed Daphne further into the house. As they entered the kitchen Justin noticed Daphne’s mother standing in front of the refrigerator, seemingly pondering its contents.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Oh! Daphne, you startled me,” she replied, jumping slightly, then turning around.

“I called out when I came inside.”

“I’m trying to figure out what to make for dinner. Nothing looks all that appealing at the moment.” Her eyes slowly drifted to Justin. “Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Justin Taylor,” he replied with a smile, reaching forward and shaking her hand.

“Maxine Chanders.” Her eyes drifted over Justin’s frame for a moment. “Your name sounds familiar.”

“Extolling my virtues again, Daph?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

“Of course. You’re an extremely virtuous person,” she replied, smacking him on the shoulder. The she returned her gaze to her mother. “Actually, Mom, I’ve mentioned Justin before because I babysit his son.”

“Oh. You have a son?” Maxine remarked.

“Yeah, he’ll be a year old on Friday,” he replied as Daphne reached into the refrigerator and removed two bottles of Pepsi, handing one to Justin. “Thanks.” They all moved over to the kitchen table and sat down. “Actually, I was hoping you might allow Daphne to come to Chicago for the weekend.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, Friday will be the one-year anniversary of my wife’s death, and I wanted to take Finlay to Chicago to visit her grave. I also need to visit my parents, and we don’t really get along. I don’t want to expose my son to our fighting. So I was hoping that Daphne could come for the weekend to watch Finlay. We’d get her a flight leaving after school Friday and make sure she’s back Sunday night.”

“We?”

“My partner, Brian, is coming as well. Having Daphne come along was actually his idea. We’ll pay for everything, the flight, Daphne’s room, and we’ll make sure she has plenty of spending money. It’ll be a good chance for her to see some of the sights and I can point out some good places to go, since I grew up there.”

“Please, Mom, can I go? I won’t miss any school, and I’ll get my homework done while I’m taking care of Finlay. And I’ll stick to the museums and wherever else Justin says is safe to go. Please?”

“I don’t know, Daphne,” she replied quietly, her eyes shifting from Justin to Daphne, then back again. “I’m sure you understand my concerns.”

“Oh, of course. I hope you’ll consider it, though.”

“Please, Mom? You’d really like Brian if you met him. He’s a really nice guy. And I wouldn’t mind checking out some of the museums or something in Chicago. It’ll be fun.”

“Justin, if you don’t mind my asking, what does Brian do? I take it he’s older than you?”

“He’s a partner in Ryder-Kinney Advertising.” He reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet, pulling one of Brian’s business cards out of it. “Here’s his card. Feel free to call him if you have any questions.” He slid the card across the table. “I think he’s in meetings the rest of the day, but you should be able to reach him tomorrow.”

“I just might do that.” She slipped the card into her pocket, then looked at Justin again and smiled. “So, would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Thanks for the invitation, but I promised Brian I’d cook dinner tonight. If I don’t, we end up having takeout because I don’t think he knows how to make anything more complicated than a sandwich. And I still have to pick Finlay up from daycare.” He stood, Daphne following suit, and briefly hugged the bubbly girl before turning to her mother. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Chanders.”

“You too, Justin.”

“Give Finlay a kiss for me.”

“Sure, Daph. He’ll be thrilled,” he replied with a grin as the two made their way toward the front entrance. 

“Give Brian a kiss for me, too.”

“Sorry, no, those are all from me.”

Daphne heaved a heavy, put-upon sigh. “Well, it was worth a try.”

“Yeah, it was. If you were dating him, I’d try the same thing. Fortunately, he’s all mine.” Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “See you later, Daph.”

 

“I think Daphne has a crush on you.”

“Huh?”

“You’re so eloquent sometimes,” Justin remarked, flipping through the paint samples. Finlay had gone to bed half an hour earlier, and they had decided to use the time to come to some decisions regarding the paints.

“Well, she knows I’m a fag, so I don’t get why she’d have a crush on me.”

“Same reason you probably had that crush on Patrick Swayze when you were a kid, even though you knew he was straight and unattainable.”

“Hey, if I met him now he wouldn’t be unattainable. Unfortunately, he hasn’t aged well and he’s not that hot anymore.”

“Unlike you.”

“I hope that’s not a crack about my age.” He glared at the younger man, a playful glare that Justin immediately picked up on.

“I would never dream of disparaging the age of the love of my life,” Justin replied, rolling his eyes and leaning forward to press a kiss to Brian’s lips. “I was talking about the whole ‘being hot’ thing. You’re very hot. Scorching.”

“Keep that talk up and we’ll never get through these fucking paint samples.” He sighed and squinted at the little cards spread over the kitchen table. “How about mocha for the second floor living room?”

“Too dark.”

“Okay.” He glanced at the microwave clock. “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

“It could be . . . if we get through these samples.” Justin leaned forward and suggestively licked his lips. “If we keep the first floor living room walls white I can hang my artwork there and it’ll have a gallery feel to it.”

“Okay, I’ll go with that.” He gazed at the cards again. “What about cinnamon?”

“Yeah, that’s nice. What for?”

“Upstairs living room.”

“You want a red living room?”

“Cinnamon.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Is that a yes to a cinnamon living room?”

“Tentative yes.”

 

Brian sat at his desk, glaring at the paint samples he had brought to work. They had managed to agree on the colors for all of the first floor, but were having a little more trouble with those for the second floor of their new home, so he had promised Justin he would spend his lunch hour considering the choices. They had finally agreed on cinnamon for the living room and sky blue with hand-painted murals and clouds on the ceilings for both of the boys’ rooms. Aside from that, they hadn’t come to any real conclusions, with the exception of the colors they both completely hated.

He glanced at the blueprints he’d had copied and shrunken onto standard copier paper and sighed. There were still the guest rooms to decide on, the bathrooms, not to mention the laundry room, second floor bathrooms, and his and Justin’s combined art studio and office.

His thoughts were disrupted a moment later when his intercom buzzed and Cynthia’s voice permeated his consciousness. “Brian? Debbie Novotny’s downstairs.”

“Send her in.” He stared at the samples again, then pulled his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open, automatically hitting speed dial. Before Justin had a chance to answer he said, “Guest rooms—how about that buttery yellow color with white molding and white furniture with white and yellow quilts for the beds?”

“Oh, I like it. How long did it take you to come up with that?”

“I’ve been staring at the fucking paint samples for the last half hour. This is all I’ve managed to come up with.”

“Hm. Guess we’re up for some negotiations tonight, then, cause you know Sam wants the colors tomorrow.”

“Fuck!”

“All part of the negotiations.”

“By the way, Debbie’s coming up in a minute. Must be pretty important if she’s stopping by my office.”

“Probably just more of her crying about how you’ve wronged Michael over the years. Too bad you can’t tell her to fuck off.”

“Yeah, too bad,” he replied, as there was a soft knock at the door, followed by Debbie’s bewigged head popping into the room as she opened the door. “Okay, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Just remember, the fun’s in the negotiations.”

“True. I never said I’d get it all figured out. See you tonight.”

“Love you. Later.”

“Later.” He snapped the phone shut. “Close the door, Deb.” He waited until she had done so and taken a seat across from him before carefully studying the expression on her face. “So what’s up?”

“You need to spend some more time with Michael.”

“Well, you’re not pulling any punches today.”

“When have I ever?”

“Point taken.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you asshole, Michael misses you. You’ve barely spent any time with him these last few weeks.”

“I’ve been up to my eyeballs in family stuff, Deb.”

“Michael is your family, too. We’re _all_ your family.”

“I know that, and I appreciate it. Fuck knows what would have happened if you weren’t around when I was a kid, hell, if you weren’t around six months ago. But life changes, and you have to change with it.”

“But Michael is still your best friend and he deserves some of your precious time.” She stood and began pacing around the room, finally coming to a stop by the large windows overlooking downtown Pittsburgh. “I just never thought I’d see the day when you’d abandon him.”

“Fucking _excuse_ me?” Brian stood and made his way over to the older woman, making sure he was in her line of vision. “I have _not_ abandoned Michael. If he needs me, I’ll be there. But I sure the fuck don’t appreciate the way he’s been treating my partner. I can put up with how he treats me, his low expectations of me, but I cannot, and I will not, put up with him disparaging my family.”

“Your family?”

“Justin and Finlay are my family.”

“And Gus?”

“Gus, too. Of course he’s my family, he’s my son for fuck’s sake. But Michael hasn’t attacked him. He’s attacked Justin and Finlay. He fucking attacked Finlay’s mother at the diner yesterday by not believing Justin when he told Michael about her.”

“And why should be believe anything Justin has to say? He’s lied to all of us. He never once told us he had a fucking kid! He should have told us all that first night you brought him to the family dinner.”

“Why? He didn’t know any of you. Why should he have to tell you about his son, let you judge both of them? He knows people judge him because he’s a young father, and he hates it, Deb. Add that to the fact that no one in this little fucked-up family of ours, aside from Vic and Emmett, have really treated him like one of the family.”

“That’s not true!”

“Of course it is. You’re constantly telling him he’s too young. Life isn’t built on age, it’s built on experience. He’s been through a lot, so his mindset isn’t the same as most other eighteen-year-olds. Michael is always willing to point out that I’m going to leave him. And that doesn’t hurt only Justin, it hurts me, too. Lindsay had the gall to tell me that I shouldn’t have anything to do with Justin because it would mean being around Finlay. Then she tried to keep me from Gus, until we finally had a little chat about it and got down to the real problem. So maybe you can understand some of our reluctance to open up to all of you anymore.”

“You know, it’s really hard to treat someone like family when they don’t tell you the truth,” Deb retorted, her eyes shimmering. “We deserved to know that he was fucking married.”

“You don’t deserve anything from him! Least of all the few memories he has of his wife. Despite what you all may think, he really did love her. Granted, it was as a friend, but that’s still a deep bond. And they shared a child. If you think for one minute that he’s not going to defend her memory, then you honestly know jack shit about him.”

“Look,” Deb said quietly, sighing, “I didn’t come here to argue. I just want you to spend some time with Michael. He’s really upset.”

“He has David.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“No, it’s not. But in some ways, it should mean more. David is the one he should be turning to for all this love and affection he seems to crave. He needs to stop turning to me because I can’t give him what he wants.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“No, I mean I can’t. I can’t feel about him the way I feel about Justin.”

“You could if you tried. You barely know this kid.” She made her way over to his desk, glancing at the samples and the blueprints. “So you’re really renovating the loft?”

“Yeah. And I know him better than you think.” He glanced at the paint samples again, picking up a white one that contained just a bare tint of green. With a grin, he dropped it on the blueprint near the outline of the kitchen. Yep, the first floor was going to be very subdued, but tasteful and not offensive to anyone’s taste’s, not even theirs but it was the rest of their home that would truly reflect their personalities with the vibrant, passionate colors and rich materials that were to fill the space. “I think the problem you’re having is that _you_ barely know him.”


	6. Clarity

Justin studied Brian as the older man maneuvered the Jeep through the city streets. Brian’s beauty continued to amaze him. There was something about his eyes, his lips, his perfectly-styled chestnut hair, that made the man irresistible to almost anyone who met him.

“What?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

“You were staring at me again.”

“Well, I always _have_ admired beauty. I suppose it’s all part of being an artist.”

“And young, and horny, and virile. Need I go on?”

“No, I get it. You’re only with me for my youth and my ass.”

“Of course,” Brian replied with a smirk as he stopped at a red light. Leaning over, he pressed his lips against Justin’s, letting his tongue trace the younger man’s lips. 

“You are _so_ getting lucky tonight.” Justin reached over and lightly threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of Brian’s neck. “Then again, you’re lucky every night.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. You’re with me, aren’t you?” He leaned over and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the side of Brian’s neck, letting his tongue come in contact with the other man’s skin, before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes as he listened to Brian’s favorite Cure album reverberate through the vehicle’s speakers.

Half an hour later Justin found himself leaning against Brian’s shoulder as he watched Gus suck on his bottle, the child’s hazel eyes staring up at his father. He reached over and let the boy grasp his finger, smiling at the tight grip Gus had despite being just three months old.

“He definitely likes you,” Brian said softly, looking over at his partner for a moment before turning his gaze back to his son.

“Guess he takes after you, then.” 

“So I hear you’re going to Chicago this weekend,” Mel remarked as she and Lindsay returned from the kitchen with glasses of wine for each of them.

“Yeah. Finlay’s birthday is on Friday, and we kind of just need to go back, get some closure on our life back there. It’s time we both moved on.” He extricated his finger from the child’s grasp, then reached up to brush the newly-acquired soft brown hair away from his forehead.

“Okay, I think Sonnyboy’s done with the bottle.” Brian set the bottle on the coffee table, then turned to Justin. “Here, you’re better at the burping thing. Besides, I don’t want him spitting up on my shirt.”

“And it’s okay for him to spit up on mine?” Justin grinned at his partner for a moment, then reached for the towel Mel held out to him. He put it over his shoulder, then reached for Gus and placed the boy against his shoulder. “You are such a wimp, Kinney. Baby puke is nothing.” He began rubbing circles on Gus’s back.

“It’s not nothing when it lands on Prada.”

“Then stop wearing Prada so much. Simple solution.” Justin stood and began walking Gus around the living room, lightly bouncing him as he patted his back. “You could always join the rest of us and shop at the mall.”

“Brian would never dream of shopping at the mall,” Mel intoned. “The mall is beneath him.”

“My problem with the mall is that it’s got too many stores crammed into one place, most of those stores sell products that aren’t of high quality, and I don’t feel like being surrounded by a bunch of kids.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have so much fun when our kids are teenagers, then,” Justin remarked with a grin. “Imagine all the rough-housing, the girlfriend trouble—.”

“Or boyfriend trouble,” Brian added.

“Yes, or boyfriend trouble. The screaming fights and slammed doors.”

“Fuck! I don’t want to be around for all this parenting shit.”

“Yeah you do,” Justin replied, stopping in front of him, then leaning over and pecking him lightly on the lips. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I think Gus has burped all he’s going to, and now it seems to be nap time.”

“He’s falling asleep already?”

“Just about,” the younger man replied, watching Brian as he stood and stretched, his shirt rising just enough to reveal the taut muscles of his stomach. 

“I’ll just take him upstairs.” He gently picked up his son, cradling him securely against his chest. With his free hand he plucked the towel from Justin’s shoulder and dropped it onto the coffee table. Then he placed his hand at the back of the younger man’s neck and pulled him close, kissing him until the need for oxygen forced them to separate. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Okay.” Justin leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Gus’s forehead. “Have a good nap, little man.” He watched as Brian carried his son up the stairs, then turned, a small smile still decorating his lips, and returned to his place on the couch.

“So, Justin, um . . . are you planning to visit the art institute while you’re in Chicago?” Lindsay asked quietly.

“I’m not really sure. I haven’t been there in a long time, so I really wouldn’t mind going for a couple hours. I used to go there all the time when I was in high school. I’d just get a cab and go right there after school, hang out sometimes until it closed, just sitting and sketching . . . definitely one of my favorite places in the city.”

“Did you grow up right in the city, or were you in the suburbs?” Mel asked.

“Sort of on the edge of the city, but not quite in the suburbs. We were close enough to the edge that it had a little bit of a suburban feel to it. I mean, we had a yard and neighbors and everything, but it was within walking distance of some of the city’s landmarks.” He raised his wineglass to his lips, draining the last of the liquid. “I’ve always liked being in the downtown part of any city more than being in the suburbs. It just feels more alive there. I figure there’s time to relax when I’m old and retired.”

“What about what Brian wants? I can’t imagine him ever living outside of the city,” Lindsay remarked.

“Nothing’s set in stone; there’s plenty of time to figure out what we both want. Besides, after spending the last couple of days figuring out the colors we want the new place painted, with absolutely no bloodshed, I might add, I think we’ll be able to come to an agreement about where we’re going to retire. I don’t know, it’s really too far into the future to really think all that much about, at this point. I mean, I still need to get through college.”

“Have you heard from PIFA yet?”

“Oh, um, no. I just sent everything in a few days ago. Being in the hospital put me a little behind, but I somehow managed to get everything in on time. So I should know fairly soon, a couple of months, give or take.” He glanced toward the stairs for a moment, then at the clock hanging on the wall across from the couch. “Would you mind if I went upstairs? Brian’s been gone quite a while.”

“No, not at all,” Mel replied with a smile. “He probably just got to watching Gus sleep and lost track of the time. That always happens to me.”

 

Justin peered into the nursery for a moment, his breath catching at the sight before him. Brian sat in the rocking chair, Gus held securely against his chest, his cheek resting against the little boy’s head, his eyes closed. The younger man immediately wished he had his sketchbook, or at least a camera. So he stood in the doorway, contenting himself with imprinting this beautiful image on his mind.

“Hey,” Brian said quietly, his eyes still closed. “Gonna stand there all night?”

“Hm, maybe. I want to draw the two of you. Just trying to memorize everything.”

“My arm’s falling asleep.” He opened his eyes and looked up at Justin. “I sat down to rock him and two seconds later he’d fallen asleep. I was afraid I’d wake him if I moved.” He smiled as the younger man stepped into the room and made his way over to where he sat. “I figured you’d eventually find your way up here.”

“I’ll always find my way to you.” He smiled, then lightly touched his bracelet. “You had homing devices put in these, didn’t you?”

“Yup. You know all my secrets.” Brian pressed a light kiss to Gus’s head. “I think Gus thinks the bracelet is a toy. He kept trying to grab it.”

“Just cause it’s shiny.” Justin stepped around to Brian’s side and peered at the little boy. “Finlay does the same thing.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, his breath lightly ruffling the sparse hair of the sleeping baby. “Would you mind putting him in his crib?”

“You just want me to be the one to have to deal with the crying if he wakes up.”

“Yeah, that, too.” As Justin leaned forward to pick up Gus, Brian used his free hand to pull Justin close for a kiss. “I can never get enough of you.”

“Works both ways.” Justin lightly licked Brian’s lower lip, then carefully lifted Gus and carried him to his crib. Once the boy was settled Justin felt Brian’s arms wrap around his waist, his chin resting against his shoulder, his left hand creeping under his sweater. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I could finish it.”

“Yeah, but not here.”

“They’d never have to know.”

“We’ve been up here long enough that I’m sure they’d assume. Besides, they’re probably about to come up and see for themselves.” Justin turned within the circle of Brian’s arms and reached up to wrap his own arms around the taller man’s neck. He tilted his head back as Brian’s lips came in contact with the underside of his jaw. “Although right now I could care less,” he murmured as Brian’s lips began their descent toward his Adam’s apple. 

“Well, the least we can do is make out like a couple of teenagers . . . especially considering one of us still _is_ a teenager.”

“Five minutes,” he replied, his gaze focusing on Lindsay as she came to a stop in the doorway. He held her shocked gaze for a moment before slipping his hand under the back of Brian’s shirt and beginning an assault of his own on the other man’s neck.

“Mm, fuck! You’re gonna make me come right now if you keep doing that,” Brian groaned, gently easing Justin’s lips away from his neck. He leaned forward and lightly licked Justin’s bottom lip, then smiled. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” He wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck again and pressed their bodies together in a long hug, watching as Lindsay pressed her hand to her mouth before turning and rushing away. “Lindsay was just here looking for us.” He studied his lover for a moment, then lightly kissed him. “I think she gets it now.”

“She got it all along.” He twisted his fingers gently in Justin’s hair and leaned forward for another kiss. 

 

Ten minutes later, while Brian and Mel were locked away in the lawyer’s home office going over some paperwork, Justin found himself sitting in the living room with Lindsay. He stared at the coffee now cooling in the beautifully-painted mug, then sighed and looked at the blonde woman.

“I’m not trying to take him away from you,” he said quietly. “Or from Gus.”

“I never said that you were.”

“But you think that every time you see me.” He leaned forward and set the cup on a heavy stone coaster. “He’ll always be Gus’s father. You’ll never lose that connection with him.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Yes. I’ll always feel connected to Finlay’s mother. I’ll always love her. But I could never love her the way I love Brian. It’s completely different. But no matter what happens, no matter how you’re separated, whether it’s by being in separate relationships, or even by death, the connection will always be there.”

“I just wanted . . . I don’t know what I wanted.”

“You wanted your family. Mel, Gus, and Brian.”

She gazed toward the bay window, her hand covering her mouth. When she looked back at him there were tears in her eyes and she could do nothing but nod.

“You still have them. I’m not trying to take that away. I’m not in competition for Brian. He’s already chosen me, same as you’ve chosen Mel. But by virtue of the two of you having a child together, you have a connection to him that I can’t, just as he has a connection to you that Mel can’t. So what are you really losing by him being with me?”

 

Brian looked down at the blonde head nestled on his chest and couldn’t help it as his fingers found their way into the soft blonde locks. The younger man’s eyes were closed, had been for a few minutes, but Brian knew he wasn’t sleeping by the way his fingers would occasionally trace a rib or draw a circle around his belly button.

“Brian?” The voice was soft, barely audible.

“Hm?”

“Promise me something.”

“What?”

“No matter what happens in Chicago, with my parents, or my in-laws . . . promise that we’ll have more nights like this.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Brian’s shoulder. 

“I promise we’ll have more nights like this. I can’t promise every night, but I can most definitely promise that there will be more nights like this.” He threaded his fingers through Justin’s hair, guiding him toward his lips, then slowly kissing him. With his other hand, he captured Justin’s left wrist and gently ran his thumb over the smooth skin under the silver bracelet. 

When he had seen the bracelets at the store, already inscribed with the Lover’s Knot, he’d almost passed them up. He had initially thought they seemed like shackles, too large and over-bearing to slip onto Justin’s wrist. But the thought of buying wedding bands, as Mel and Lindz had done a few years earlier, seemed too dangerous. Who ever got married just three months into their first real relationship and had it work out? There was just something . . . safer . . . about having bracelets. To the outside world, they just didn’t carry the same weight. The important thing was the promise they represented to those who wore them. So he had purchased the bracelets, having them inscribed almost as an afterthought. Yet as he told Siobhan what he wanted engraved inside the bracelets, he knew it was what he really wanted.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Commitments.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He wrapped his arms around Justin’s waist, one hand resting lightly on his hip, then pressed a soft kiss to the younger man’s lips. Justin smiled, then tucked his head under Brian’s chin, his cheek resting against his partner’s chest, and closed his eyes, this time falling into a contented sleep.

 

Justin wasn’t sure what he felt as the taxi made its way through the city streets. He wasn’t thrilled at being back in Chicago, but he didn’t feel as apprehensive as he’d expected he would. Instead he just felt like he needed to be there only for a short time to get everything dealt with before going back home. To Pittsburgh. 

“You okay?” Brian asked quietly, his fingers finding their way to the back of Justin’s neck and beginning to knead the tension away.

“Yeah.”

“Da!”

“Hm?” Justin turned his attention to Finlay, strapped safely into his car seat between himself and Brian. He reached down and smoothed the child’s hair away from his forehead.

“Big!” Finlay exclaimed, pointing out the window to the buildings as the taxi made its way into downtown Chicago. 

“They’re very big. See that one over there?” He pointed to an especially tall one, clearly an office building. “My dad owns that one.”

“What does he do? I don’t think you ever mentioned it,” Brian asked, reaching over and linking his fingers through Justin’s.

“He’s a real estate developer. Sort of a mini Donald Trump, but with less money and slightly better hair,” Justin replied, as the taxi came to a stop in front of a tall hotel with a large awning that held golf light fixtures. Just above the awning was a line of several flags. “Fuck! We’re staying at the Drake?”

“Uh huh.” He unclasped the car seat, then removed Finlay from the cab.

“This is really expensive, Brian,” Justin stated, joining him on the sidewalk.

“We can afford it.” Brian leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Justin’s lips, breaking apart only when Finlay began bouncing in his car seat. “It’s going to be a tough few days, and we should be as comfortable as possible. Cynthia can keep in touch with me easily here, it’s within walking distance of a lot of interesting sights, so that works for Daphne when she gets here . . . it’s just convenient.” He slipped his arm around Justin’s waist and led him into the hotel, the bellhop following closely behind them with their luggage. “Besides,” he whispered, “I have it on good authority that they have really comfortable beds and very large Jacuzzis.”

 

This day was so unlike that day just one year earlier, when he had found himself standing, alone, beside his wife’s coffin. Her parents stood on the other side, tears coursing down their faces. His parents hadn’t shown up at all. Large, gentle flakes had fallen from the sky, dusting the simple coffin until it was nearly covered. Justin had trembled that day, from grief, depression, fear, uncertainty, exhaustion . . . all that, and he had still tried to convince himself that it was just the cold Chicago weather that caused the shaking.

Today there was no snow falling, no crowd of grieving family members, no shaking. Today he wasn’t alone—he had his partner and his son giving him all the strength he needed. Each man held one of Finlay’s hands as they slowly made their way through the cemetery. Justin remembered exactly where his wife had been buried and it took them only a matter of moments to find the small stone marker lying on the ground.

  
**SHANNON FIONA SULLIVAN**   
**BELOVED DAUGHTER**   
**SEPTEMBER 3, 1982-NOVEMBER 15, 1999**   


“They didn’t . . .”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Brian said quietly, looking into his partner’s shocked face.

“I just thought . . . I know they didn’t like me and they didn’t have to include my last name, but . . . she was so much more than _just_ someone’s daughter.”

Brian studied the stone for a moment, then leaned down and pulled Finlay’s hat down more so that it covered his ears. Then he stepped closer to Justin and placed the back of his hand along the younger man’s cheek. “Do you want me to give you and Finlay a few minutes alone with her?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Justin’s forehead. “I’ll be over by the car.” He offered a slight smile, then turned and walked away. 

Justin crouched down and, discovering the ground was dry, dropped to his knees, keeping one hand on Finlay to keep him from falling and lightly touching his wife’s gravestone with his other hand.

“Hey, Shan. Been a long time. I can’t believe it’s been a year already.” He blinked back the tears that were starting to form in his eyes. “I miss you. Finlay’s been doing great, but I’m sure you already knew that. I know you’re keeping your eye on him, wherever you are.” He placed a loud kiss on Finlay’s cheek, and the small boy erupted in giggles. “He’s beautiful, Shan, he really is. I think he’s going to take after you in a lot of ways. He already seems really outgoing. Once he’s a little more steady on his feet I’m sure he’ll be getting into everything.” Justin kept his hand on Finlay as the little boy dropped to his hands and knees and crawled toward the stone marker and lightly ran his tiny fingers over the engraved letters. He smiled at his son. 

“Um, I also wanted to let you know that I’ve met someone. I’m sure you already know that. His name’s Brian Kinney. He’s really great. I think you’d like him. Shit, the two of you would probably end up being best friends. Anyway, I really love him. Like, really love him. And I know what you’d say, you’d say how can you possibly know after such a short amount of time, but I just do. And he loves me, too. So I hope you’re okay with him being Finlay’s other dad. I mean, it’s not official, Brian hasn’t adopted him or anything, and we’ve technically only been living together for a few weeks, but everything is going really well, and Finlay loves him. And I’m rambling again, but I just wanted to let you know what’s been going on. Anyway, I’ll make sure Finlay knows all about you. As much as I can tell him, anyway. I have that photo album for him, and your diary, in case he ever wants to read it. I think he might be interested to know how you felt about being pregnant. And I promise, Shan, I really and truly promise, that he’ll always know how much you loved him.” He reached forward and scooped up Finlay as the little boy tried to make his way toward another gravestone a few feet away. “Now, we need to go. We’ve got to celebrate Finlay’s birthday. I know you wouldn’t want us to be sad the entire day. After all, it’s his first birthday, and that’s monumental. I’m sure all parents think every birthday their child has is monumental. Anyway, Brian’s going to take us shopping. I think he wants to get some designer baby clothes for Finlay. Baby GAP just doesn’t meet his high standards,” he remarked with a chuckle. “And then . . . I don’t know. But we’ll celebrate Finlay’s birthday the way it should be celebrated. I love you, Shan.” He placed his fingers against his lips, then lightly touched the gravestone. 

“Da?”

“Yeah?”

“Tee!”

“Yeah,” Justin replied, laughing, “that’s a tree.” He looked up, squinting through the empty branches at the sun that shone high overhead. He looked back at his son and smiled. “So what do you say we go get Brian and go have some fun to celebrate your big day?”

“Big!”

“Very big.” He stood, then reached for Finlay’s hand and slowly walked back toward Brian, smiling as the older man dropped his cigarette on the pavement and ground it out under his shoe before he and Finlay were close enough to be affected by the second-hand smoke.

“Everything okay?” Brian asked quietly.

“Yeah.” Justin scooped Finlay up in his arms, then leaned forward and kissed Brian, his tongue sweeping across the older man’s lips before gaining entrance. A moment later, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, Justin whispered, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on. There’s shopping to be done.” He offered his trademark tongue-in-cheek grin before kissing Justin one more time.

 

“I can’t believe you bought him all those clothes,” Justin remarked later that night as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror surveying his complexion. “You do realize that he’ll outgrow them in a month or so, right?”

“At least for that month he’ll be a very fashionable baby. Besides, you only turn one once.” He wrapped his arms around the younger man and pulled him against his chest, marveling at the smoothness of his skin. “You look great.” He lightly nipped at his neck before releasing him. “Too bad we have to get dressed.”

“True. But we haven’t been out dancing since I got out of the hospital. There’s always been some reason to stay home.”

“Hey, fucking’s a very good reason.”

“True. But I was thinking,” he replied, stepping close to Brian again and wrapping his arms around his neck, “that Daphne could watch Finlay for the entire night. And when we get back from the club,” he licked the underside of Brian’s jaw, “we can fuck all night, and be as loud as we want. Then,” he gently kissed the older man, “Daphne could drop Finlay off before she starts her morning of sight-seeing and we can sleep in a little.”

“Mm, sounds good. Now let’s get dressed before I end up fucking you in the shower again.”

“Hm, we could always fuck in the Jacuzzi tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

“This is so much nicer than Woody’s,” Brian remarked as the two men made their way through the throngs of people inside Sidetrack. “Woody’s looks like my dad’s fucking union hall compared to this place.” He took in the polished surface of the bar, the stylish men and women crowded around it, and video monitors all over the place.

“Come on, let’s head to the lounge area,” Justin urged, sliding his hand into Brian’s and leading him further into the bar. They quickly found the lounge and managed to snag a couch just as it was vacated. “I’ve never been here before, but I really like it.”

“Yeah, too bad there isn’t someplace like this back home.” He slipped his fingers into Justin’s hair and pulled the younger man close for a kiss.

“Bri.”

“Hm?”

“Um . . . this doesn’t seem like a ‘making out in public’ kind of place.”

“You’re a teenager, you’re supposed to make out in public.”

“Mm hm, what’s your excuse, then?” Justin smiled, then began trailing feather-light kisses down Brian’s neck.

“Mm, well, since you’re the teenager in this relationship, and you need to make out in public as part of the whole teenage experience, then as your partner, it’s my duty to help you out a little. And that includes plying you with alcohol. So, what do you want to drink?”

“Mm, a beer would be great.”

“A beer it is. I’ll be right back.”

Justin watched him wander off, then he slid further down on the leather couch and propped his feet up on the large black square that served as a coffee table. He looked down at his bracelet and smiled. With the cold weather he almost always wore long sleeves, so the bracelet wasn’t usually visible. Tonight, however, he wore a tight short-sleeve blue tee shirt and a pair of black cargo pants that hugged his ass perfectly. He could hardly wait for the spring, when he could wear short-sleeved shirts all and time and display the piece of silver around his wrist.

“Justin? Justin Taylor?”

“Hm?” He looked up and found himself face-to-face with one of his old friends. “Paul! Hey!” He stood and quickly hugged the taller, dark-haired man.

“Fuck, I haven’t seen you in ages!” Paul exclaimed, sitting on the edge of the coffee table as Justin returned to his place on the couch. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Um, well, for the last few months I’ve been living in Pittsburgh.”

“How the hell did you end up there?”

“Just packed up my car and started driving, and that’s where I ended up,” he replied, gazing toward the bar and spotting Brian immediately.

“So how long are you here for? Are you moving back?”

“I’m just staying for a few days. My life is in Pittsburgh now.” He grinned at his old friend. “So what have you been up to? Still seeing Charlie?”

“Fuck no! That ended almost a year ago. He decided I was too young and immature, that he needed to find someone his own age who he could have deep philosophical discussions with.” He grinned and rolled his eyes. “What he really wanted was for someone to worship his dick. Which, by the way, was sadly lacking.”

“Really?” He grinned and raised his eyebrows. “So are you seeing someone now?”

“Nah, you know . . . just playing the field, as the hets like to say. Basically just fucking around.” He gazed over toward the bar. “Oh, he’s hot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him here.”

“Who?”

“Tall guy over at the bar. Brown hair. Wearing a black tee shirt and a pair of jeans. Um, looks like he’s got a silver watch on.” Paul let out a loud breath of air. “Fuck, he’s practically a walking hard-on.”

“Mm, yeah,” Justin replied quietly, hardly containing his laughter at the other man’s observations regarding Brian. “Definitely hot.”

“Oh yeah. He’d never go for us, though.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I look like a club kid, and you look like you’re twelve. He’s obviously a professional, very secure with who he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has money . . . plus, he just so completely exudes sex. Why would he pick us? There are tons more guys here with better builds, who aren’t as pale as we are, and who have a ton more experience.” He turned and studied Justin for a moment. “Speaking of experience, the last time I saw you, you still had your cherry intact.”

“Well, it’s been almost two years. I’m not even close to being the same person I was the last time I saw you,” Justin replied with a smile, lightly running his fingers over his bracelet.

“Does that mean you’ve got a boyfriend?”

“Uh huh.” He grinned at his friend. “For a few months. Sort of. We just defined it a few weeks ago. So right now we’re living at my apartment while we renovate his loft, but once that’s done, hopefully in another week or so, we’ll be moving in there.”

“You’re kidding, right? Fuck, you’re practically married, then!”

“There are worse things,” he replied, a small grin on his face. 

“Please explain to me why guys always insist on trying to get me to fuck them when I make it clear that I’m not interested?” Brian groused, suddenly appearing and dropping onto the couch beside Justin. “It’s like the universe is conspiring against me. Here.”

“Poor baby.” Justin leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Why do you always drink imported beer? It costs a fucking fortune,” the younger man replied, taking the beer Brian offered.

“Cause they didn’t have Sam Adams, the fuckers, and you know perfectly well that’s just about the only American beer I drink. The rest is too watered down to bother with. Besides, you like the imported stuff. I seem to recall you always stealing the last one from my fridge whenever you would spend the night.” 

“I can’t believe you’re such a label queen that it carries over into beer.”

“One day you’ll appreciate the finer things in life.”

“Uh huh.”

“So,” Brian replied, his eyes drifting to Paul, “gonna introduce me?”

“I was waiting for your mini queen-out to end.” Justin reached over and lightly pinched the other man’s ribcage. “This is Paul Andrews, we used to hang out a lot when I lived here. Paul, this is my partner, Brian Kinney.”

“Hey, Paul.”

“Hi.” He spoke quietly, and shifted his questioning gaze back to Justin.

“I was just telling Paul about the loft renovations.” Justin tucked himself under Brian’s arm and leaned against the man, continuing to enjoy the surprised look on his friend’s face. 

“Speaking of which, Sam left me a message and said everything is right on schedule.”

“Good.” He turned back to Paul and smiled. “So what are you doing now? Are you in school?”

“I’m taking a few courses over at the university, just basic requirements right now. I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do.”

“I thought you were settled on Art History?”

“I was, but then I got to thinking about it, and that’s just not going to pay the bills. I’d like to live in style eventually and I can’t do that on a teacher’s salary. I might be better off majoring in business or something.” Paul lifted his martini glass to his lips and finished his drink, then set the empty glass on the table.

“Money _does_ make the world go round,” Brian replied with a grin, his fingers finding their way into Justin’s blonde locks. “You could always do something that involves both fields. Become a museum curator or something. My friend Lindsay, she’s an Art History professor, but I know from time to time she’s entertained the thought of working in a museum.”

“I’d probably spend more of my time looking at the art than actually dealing with the business side of things, though. I’d probably get fired during the first week.”

“I’ve had employees like that and that’s one of the things I won’t tolerate. I figure, if I hire someone to do a job, then they better do what they’re getting paid for.”

“What is it you do?” Paul asked.

“I’m a partner in an advertising agency.”

“Oh, really? Do you do local ads or national?”

“A little of both. We’re starting to get more and more national spots. We’ve got one just starting to appear for K&D, you know, that chain of clothing stores.”

“Oh, right, I love that store! So you did that ad that’s running in the magazines . . . with the different types of cool?”

“Uh huh. Afraid I can’t take credit for that concept, though. It was entirely Justin’s idea.”

“Things really have changed, haven’t they? What else is going on that you’ve neglected to tell me about?” Paul’s gaze focused on Justin as the younger man burrowed impossibly closer to Brian.

“More than you could ever imagine,” Justin replied with a grin as Brian wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

 

By midnight the two men found themselves in the middle of the dance floor at Berlin, one of the top clubs in Boystown. Brian scrunched down and wrapped his arms around Justin’s neck, their foreheads pressed together as they danced. Justin placed his hands on Brian’s hips, then began gently nipping his neck. Brian tipped his head back for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his partner’s lips, before returning his gaze to the other man’s sparkling blue eyes. Leaning forward, he gently licked Justin’s lips, before thrusting his tongue into the younger man’s warm mouth.

“Mm, Bri.”

“Hm?”

“Let’s get out of here.” He rubbed against the taller man, then smiled. “I wanna go back to the hotel and fuck you.”

“Well, it _is_ the celebration of the day you became a father . . . it’s only fair you should get a present, too.”


	7. Clarity

Brian rolled over in the early morning light, mindful of his sore muscles, and found himself entranced by the man on the other side of the bed. He’d never considered the possibility that he might one day enjoy the fact that he was waking up with the same man every morning. Nor had he considered that the man he’d fall in love with would be the complete opposite of every man he had ever pursued in his life. Justin was innocent, yet by no stretch of the imagination naïve, young but with the life experience of someone Brian’s own age or older, soft, but stronger than anyone he’d ever met.

Brian shifted closer to the other man, then slid his hand under the sheet that was covering his torso and lightly caressed his hip. Justin moaned quietly, but continued to sleep, so Brian pulled the sheet back, taking a moment to study the younger man before leaning forward to replace his hand with his lips, lightly licking and nipping his soft skin.

“Mm, Brian.”

“Hm?” Brian looked up and found Justin watching him through barely-open eyes.

“More.”

“Gladly.” He slid up the length of Justin’s body and placed a soft kiss on his sleep-flushed lips before beginning to trail wet kisses down his smooth, pale chest.

 

“How do I look?” Justin asked, turning and facing Brian. He wore a pair of dark green cargo pants and a form-fitting black v-neck tee shirt.

“Um, I think you look great, but did you bring those black pants that you have?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Just . . . the cargo pants make you look really young. And I know that, obviously, your parents know how old you are, but the last time they really saw you, aside from when your mom saw you in the hospital, you were probably dressed similar to how you are now. They’ll look at you and think you’re that same kid. I just think . . . it’s all about presentation, you know? Show them that you’re an adult and that you can, on occasion, dress like one.” 

“Fuck you,” he replied with a grin. “You’re right, though. Black pants it is.” He cocked his head and studied his partner for a moment. “What are you wearing?”

“I don’t know. Probably shouldn’t wear anything too . . . perv-ish.”

“Is that even a word?”

“I don’t know.”

“You never look perv-ish.”

“Your dad might not think that the moment he gets a look at me. Because, let’s face it, when we stand side by side, I look like a fucking cradle-robber.”

“You’re not a cradle-robber.”

“I know that, and you know what, but I think a lot of other people wouldn’t really see the distinction.”

“They can go fuck themselves, then.” He walked over to the bed and sat down beside his partner. “I love you and I honestly don’t care what anyone else thinks about our relationship. We know the truth. And this whole part of the trip . . . going to see my parents . . . honestly, I wish they wanted to be a part of my life, but they don’t, and that’s fine . . . but this is basically about clearing the air with them, and explaining to my sister why I had to leave. I’m not trying to get them to love me again because I know that’s an unrealistic goal. I just want to be able to go home knowing that I did what I had to do, and leave the rest to them. I don’t want any loose ends, any ‘what ifs’ following me back to Pittsburgh.”

 

He had been perfectly calm on the way to his parents’ house, but as he maneuvered the rental car through the gate and up the drive, he found himself getting nervous. There would always be a small part of him that wanted his parents’ approval with regard to how he lived his life and even though he knew he would likely not get it, he could help the small glimmer of hope that fluttered inside his chest.

“This is the house you grew up in?” Brian asked with astonishment, taking in the large brick mansion, the Ionic columns gracing the front of the home. “It’s like a fucking palace.”

“Only from the outside.” He stopped the car and put in park, then switched off the engine. Then he turned and looked back at Daphne. “Did I tell you how much I appreciate you coming with us?”

“Twenty or thirty times, yes.” She grinned at him. “It’s no problem.”

“You say that now . . . just wait.” He reached behind the seat and handed her the car keys. “If things get really heated I want you to take Finlay back to the hotel. Brian and I will get a taxi. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s go, then,” Brian said quietly, leaning over and lightly kissing Justin before opening his car door and stepping out.

 

“Justin!” Molly ran into the living room and hurled herself at her brother, heedless of Brian, who sat beside him, and of her mother who sat perched stiffly on a tall wing-backed chair across from them. “What are you doing here? When did you get here? Are you staying?”

“Mollusk, hey, calm down.” He smiled at the younger girl, then fixed his gaze on his mother until she made her excuses and left the room. “I’m so glad to see you.” He hugged the girl even tighter, then carefully eased her away from himself and studied her. She had changed so much in the nearly two years since he had last seen her. Gone was the little girl in pigtails; now, standing before him, was a girl on the cusp of adolescence. 

“Where have you been?”

“Pittsburgh.”

“Why? No one’s told me anything, Justin. All I know is Daddy’s mad at you.”

“I’m going to explain everything, okay? But first I want you to meet Brian. You spoke with him on the phone once, remember?”

“Yeah.” She turned and looked over at him, her eyes raking over him for a moment. “Hi.”

“Hi, Molly, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“How old are you?”

“Um . . . twenty-nine.”

“You’re older than Justin. Why are you friends if you’re so much older?”

“Molly, it’s not nice to ask people how old they are,” Justin replied, grinning at Brian. “Besides, Brian’s sensitive about his age.”

“Hey,” the older man protested, a crooked smile on his face as he did so.

“Are you going to stay here? Mommy and Daddy cleaned out your room, but your bed’s still there.”

“No, Molly, I can’t stay. Here, sit down.” He patted the empty spot beside him on the sofa. “Now, I know you’re not a little kid anymore, so I’m going to tell you the truth about everything, okay? Mom knows I’m going to tell you, and she’s not happy about it, but I don’t think it’s good for you to be kept in the dark about my life, okay?”

“Yeah. Is something wrong? Did you do something bad?”

“Well, that depends on who you ask. I don’t think I’ve done anything all that bad, but Mom and Dad have a different opinion of that,” he replied, as Daphne made her way into the living room, Finlay held against her chest. “Everything okay?” he asked her.

“He’s getting cranky. Keeps asking for you.” She handed the boy to him and then, with a smile, retreated to a chair by the window at the far end of the elegant sitting room.

Justin smiled and gazed down into the tear-rimmed, tired eyes of his son. He gently brushed the boy’s hair from his forehead as Molly leaned over and peered at the baby. He gently stroked Finlay’s cheek with the back of his left index finger until the little boy drifted into a contented sleep.

“Whose baby is he?” Molly asked quietly, her eyes shifting toward Justin.

“Mine.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “His name is Finlay Sullivan Taylor. He just turned a year old yesterday.” He looked at her and smiled. “So that officially makes you an aunt.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“Who’s his mom?”

“Um, you remember Shannon Sullivan? From church?”

“Yeah. She died.”

“Yeah, she did. She was Finlay’s mom. She died before he was born. But there were some really good doctors at the hospital and they were able to save Finlay.”

“Why are Mommy and Daddy upset, though? He’s really cute.” She reached forward tentatively and lightly ran her index finger over the baby’s arm. “It must be fun having a baby around.”

“Yeah, it is. But Mom and Dad were upset because Shannon and I were so young when we found out Finlay was on his way. And because we weren’t married at that time.”

“Did you get married?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“I still don’t understand why they were so upset. Katie’s cousin had a baby when she was seventeen and her parents are helping her take care of it so she can finish school.” She studied Justin for a moment, a slight crease forming between her ginger eyebrows. “If Mommy and Daddy aren’t helping you take care of him, then how are you finishing school?”

“I have a lot of help. I don’t want you worrying about that. I’m finishing school and I’m definitely going on to college.”

“You should move back here. Maybe not into the house, but get an apartment somewhere. Then I could see Finlay after school and we could watch cartoons together.”

“I would love it if you could spend more time with him, and I’m sure he would love it, too, but we live in Pittsburgh. That’s our home. It’s where Brian is from, where his son is, where his business is, and Finlay and I want to be where he is.”

“You have friends here, too.”

“But none of them mean as much to me as Brian does.” He glanced over at his partner and smiled, a gesture that was quickly returned as the older man offered his silent encouragement. Justin turned his attention back to his sister. “You know how when you think about getting older you imagine the kind of boyfriend you might want? Or the kind of husband you might want?”

“Yeah.”

“Brian’s the one that I want.” He studied her, watching the emotions playing across her freckled features. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Molly?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, once again reaching out and touching Finlay’s arm. Then her fingers drifted to the bracelet Justin wore around his left wrist. She gently traced the design, then looked up at her brother. “What does it mean?”

“It’s Irish. It’s called a Lover’s Knot.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Brian gave it to me.” He smiled at the young girl who seemed to be taking everything in. “He has one, too.”

Molly’s eyes quickly shifted to Brian. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He held his arm out so she could look at it more closely.

“So is that like a wedding ring?”

“Not exactly,” Brian replied quietly. “It’s more like an engagement ring, I guess.” He grinned and shifted his eyes toward Justin for a moment, taking in the blinding smile the younger man leveled at him, before looking back at his sister. “Just don’t tell anyone that, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve spent my whole life saying I don’t believe in marriage or in relationships at all. And if you started telling people we’re engaged everyone would think you’re crazy.”

“But no one here knows you.”

“Point taken.”

“Molly? Dad doesn’t know. I’m going to tell him, but I need to do that myself, okay?”

“What don’t I know?” Craig Taylor stood in the entrance to the living room, his arms crossed over his chest, and a scowl on his face. His gaze shifted from his son to his daughter, to the man sitting beside his son, and finally to the child in Justin’s arms. “I thought I told you you’re not welcome here?”

Justin glared at him for a moment, then turned to his sister. “Molly? Why don’t you go find Mom? Tell her Dad’s here.”

“Okay.” She looked at Finlay for a moment, then leaned over and gently kissed his forehead. She made her way quickly past her father and turned to go upstairs.

“I know you don’t want me here, and I have no intention of staying long,” Justin replied quietly, lightly rubbing Finlay’s back at the boy began to awaken. “I just needed to come back and deal with a few things, that’s all.”

“I want you to get out of my house!”

“No, not until we talk about a few things.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to say to you,” he replied. “Brian? Can you hand me Finlay’s jacket?”

“Sure.”

“Daph? Can you please take Finlay back to the hotel? We’ll meet you there in a little while.” He pressed a light kiss to his son’s head, then retrieved the little knit hat Brian held out to him and covered Finlay’s blonde hair.

“Hey, little man,” Brian said, taking Finlay as he and Justin stood. “Be good for Daphne, okay? And we’ll see you in a little while.” He kissed the boy’s cheek, a smile lighting up his face when Finlay began to laugh and wave his little arms around. He handed the little boy to Daphne, then watched as she made her way out of the house.

“Your grandson’s doing well, thanks for asking,” Justin remarked quietly, glaring at his father. “And my cracked head is healing just fine.”

“If that’s all you have to say, you can leave.” His eyes shifted toward Brian. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Justin replied, stepping closer to Brian until their shoulders were touching. He reached over and slipped his hand into Brian’s, an action that was not lost on his father. “This is my partner, Brian.”

“What?”

“Partner, lover, it’s all interchangeable, but basically means the same thing.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Craig pressed, lifting his hand and lightly pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I think what he’s trying to say, to put it in terms even a simpleton could understand, is that we’re fags,” Brian remarked, wrapping his arm around Justin’s shoulder and drawing him into his embrace. He studied Justin’s father as his emotions played across his face. “You know, Sunshine, I think he’s starting to figure it out.”

“I think so, too,” Justin replied with a nod.

“Craig? What’s going on?” Jennifer asked, stepping into the living room, her eyes darting from her husband to her son and his lover and back again. “Justin?”

“Did you know about this?” her husband demanded, gesturing wildly. 

“Um, yes, I found out when I was in Pittsburgh.” She gazed away from her husband and out the large windows overlooking the back garden.

“And you neglected to tell me something as important as our son thinking he’s a fucking homosexual?”

“I didn’t think it mattered to you at this point! You already threw him out! You didn’t want anything to do with him, so what difference would it really make?” Jennifer threw her hands in the air and stormed over to the chair she had been sitting on earlier, collapsing with a loud sigh.

“Why do you have to keep doing everything within your means to embarrass this family? First knocking up that goddamn Sullivan girl, and now _this?”_ He turned his attention to Brian. “What the fuck kind of man is . . . is _involved_ . . . with a _child?”_

“Try and show a little respect when you speak of my wife. And don’t you _dare_ accuse Brian of that. You don’t know anything about us. You don’t know what our relationship consists of.”

“I know it consists of perversion.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Brian ran his hand through his hair and sighed with frustration. “Maybe if you cared to see your son as the man he is, not as the child _you_ want him to be, you’d see that he can make his own decisions, including who he wants to be involved with.” He ran his hand up to the back of Justin’s neck and threaded his fingers through the younger man’s soft cornsilk hair.

“And you don’t have a problem with this?” Craig asked, turning on Jennifer once again. “With the fact that he’s raising a child in that kind of environment?”

“You don’t know what kind of environment I’m raising my son in.” His gaze turned a dangerous shade of blue and his eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded his father. “You have no say in any aspect of my life, least of all when it comes to my son. You wrote him off before he was even born, so you have no right to feign concern for his well being.”

“Justin, I think if we just try and talk about this in a calm fashion—,” his mother began.

“I’m being calm.” He shifted his gaze to his father again. “The reason I felt compelled to tell you anything at all about my life had fuck-all to do with you, actually. My life isn’t here anymore. Aside from Molly, there’s nothing left for me in Chicago. Coming here this weekend . . . it was basically about letting go of the past. I think I’ve managed to do that.” Turning, he reached up and gently splayed his fingers across Brian’s jaw, then leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Ready to go?”

“More than ready.” He smiled and threaded his fingers through Justin’s, allowing the younger man to lead him toward the foyer.

“Justin. I refuse to have a fag for a son,” Craig said quietly.

“And I refuse to have a homophobe for a father, so I think we’re finally in agreement about something.”

 

Justin rolled over and looked at his sleeping partner. There was something astonishingly beautiful, otherworldly even, about Brian when he was asleep. All his walls were totally down and he looked so . . . serene. Justin smiled, then scooted closer to the other man and rested his left arm over the man’s waist and lay his head against his smooth chest.

Things had gone badly at his parents’ house once his father had come home, but he hadn’t expected it to be otherwise. Still, he and Brian had presented a united front, and had stood up to the older man. Yet as they were leaving Molly had barreled down the front staircase and begged Justin not to leave. He had felt tears forming in his eyes, but refused to let them fall, especially when his father had stepped into the foyer.

“Let go of your sister,” he had demanded, his eyes small icy shards as he had glared at his only son. “I don’t want you visiting her or calling.”

“What the fuck? She’s my sister.”

“Not anymore.”

“Daddy!”

“Go to your room, Molly!”

“No!”

“I said go!”

“It’s okay, Mollusk,” Justin had whispered into her strawberry blonde hair as he held her. “I’ll keep in touch with you, I promise. Don’t worry about it. We’ll find a way around it.” He had pushed her hair behind her ear, then watched as she quickly hugged Brian before turning and running up the stairs. 

He felt Brian begin to move against him as he awoke, and a smile formed on his lips. “Morning,” he whispered, turning his head enough to kiss slightly above Brian’s left nipple. 

“Hey.” Brian opened his eyes, then blinked a few times before focusing on the younger man’s bright blue eyes. “How long have you been awake?”

“Mm, ten minutes, maybe. Not long.” He smiled even wider when he felt Brian’s long, slender fingers slide into his hair. The older man was constantly playing with his hair. In recent weeks it seemed to have become one of his favorite pastimes. “I need to get a haircut sometime soon.”

“Hm, yeah, it’s getting a bit too long.”

“I was thinking of just having it buzzed.” He managed to hold in the laughter and make his voice steady.

“You buzz it and you won’t be getting any until it grows back.”

Justin heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. Guess I’ll just get a trim then.” He looked up at Brian, then grinned. “But can you imagine how it would feel against your dick? Those little bits of hair rubbing against it?”

“Fuck!” He looked at Justin again. “As much as I would like that, I like your hair long. It’s just . . . it’s soft. I like it.”

“I’m not going to buzz it, asshole, I was kidding.” He scooted up and pressed a quick kiss to Brian’s lips. “I like you playing with my hair.”

“And I like you playing with my dick. So get to it before Sonnyboy wakes up.”

“Gladly.” With a grin, Justin kicked the duvet out of the way and slid down Brian’s body, smiling to himself when his partner’s fingers found their way into his hair once again.

 

 

Justin parked his rental car in front of the simple white two-story house on the outskirts of northern Chicago. So many good things had happened to him while living in this house. He had first felt Finlay move one morning during breakfast when Shannon had excitedly grabbed his hand and pressed it to her stomach. It was where he had sat for hours watching the videotape of the sonogram. He and Shannon had discussed their plans for the future at night while lying in bed. It was in that house, flipping through lists of traditional Irish baby names, that they had decided on Finlay or Eamon for a boy, Fiona or Roisin for a girl.

So much had changed when Shannon died. Her parents had let him continue living in the house, telling him they couldn’t just throw him out because it would look bad. Instead, they gave him six months to find a job and a place of his own, six months to provide a life for himself and his infant son. They barely talked to him and wouldn’t have anything to do with Finlay. Any money he made had gone to pay for daycare because, even though Maureen had taken a leave of absence from work to mourn her daughter’s death, she wanted nothing to do with the child her daughter had carried. It was only when the settlement money came that they began speaking to him again.

“Is this all you think our daughter was worth? A couple million dollars?” Maureen had demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“No! Of course not!” He’d stood and begun pacing around the kitchen, glad that Finlay was a sound sleeper so he wouldn’t have to overhear this argument. “No amount of money can make up for what happened to her. But I need to consider the best interests of our son. You’ve made it clear that we’re not welcome here anymore, and I can understand that. It’s not like you wanted us here in the first place, anyway. I need to make sure he’s got a roof over his head and medical care in case he has any problems down the road, and food to eat. I can’t provide those things for him right now, not like I want to.”

“You’re a greedy little bastard, profiting from our daughter’s death!” Connor had bellowed.

“I’m not profiting! I’m taking care of our son. It’s what she would have wanted.”

“You don’t know what she wanted.”

“We talked about everything, she wanted Finlay to always come first. That’s what I’m doing. This money will provide everything he needs, including his education. He’ll be able to go to private schools if he wants, he would even be able to go to an Ivy League school . . . any school he wants.”

“And what about you? You’re going to be using this money, too.” Connor had leaned against the table and glared at him. “What do you have to say about that?”

“Look, I have every intention of working, supporting us as much as I can without touching the money. To do that, I need to go to school, too. But beyond that, I don’t need to touch it. The fact remains, it’s our money, mine and Finlay’s, and I’m going to do with it as I see fit.” Then he had turned, climbed the stairs, and closed himself in his and his son’s room, doing his best to keep his tears at bay and failing. It was that night that he had decided he needed to leave. He’d packed his things and left the following morning without a word.

He’d immediately driven to his great-grandmother’s house, spending two months there trying to figure out what he was going to do, before ultimately deciding that he needed to put some distance between himself and Chicago, and his grandmother’s farm just wasn’t far enough away. She’d patted his cheek and given him her blessing that day in July when he’d once again packed up his car and his son, and set out on the road.

Justin shook his head, snapping himself out of his reverie. Then he opened his door and made his way up the cracked concrete slabs of the Sullivan’s sidewalk. The house seemed to have fallen into even more disrepair since the last time he was here. Maybe that was a result of his in-laws still mourning the death of their daughter; maybe it was just too much for them to handle at the moment. While he had lived there the house had always appeared impeccable, given their relatively low income. He reached forward and pressed the doorbell.

A moment later Maureen opened the door, wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she did so. She studied him through the screen door for a moment, before nodding her head. Justin opened the door and stepped inside, gazing around the entrance. Nothing had changed, really. Not that he’d been expecting it to.

“Hi, Maureen,” he said quietly.

“Justin. You look . . . older.” She turned and led the way to the kitchen. “How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good.”

“Connor and I stopped by your house a few weeks ago. Your father said you’d moved out of Chicago.”

“Yeah, I’m living in Pittsburgh now.”

“How’s Finlay?”

“Good. He’s just started walking, talking a bit.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around the kitchen. “I know . . . I know you don’t like me. I’m okay with that. But I just . . . I don’t want Finlay to suffer because of that, you know?”

“It’s not that I don’t like you, Justin.” She sighed, then turned away from the cup of tea she had poured and looked at him. “This past year has been really difficult for me. I just . . . I never imagined that Shannon would be stupid enough to end up pregnant and married at sixteen. I wanted so much more for her. That’s why we came here, so she could do more with her life. Have so many opportunities.” Her eyes drifted toward the cross hanging above the stove. “And I blamed you for that a lot more than I blamed her. I can admit that now. And I guess that somewhere along the way, things got a bit muddled. I just kept thinking, what if she hadn’t been pregnant? Maybe she would have survived the accident. But I know that’s not true. I just couldn’t help thinking it. And that just made me blame you even more.”

“But placing blame doesn’t solve anything. And it doesn’t change things, either.” He studied the way she raised her left hand and fingered the cross hanging from her neck. Then he reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet. “I thought you might like a picture of Finlay. It was taken last week.” He slid the picture from the protective plastic sheath and handed it to her.

“He looks a lot like you.”

“Yeah. But he’s got Shan’s nose, and so far he’s pretty outgoing like the was.”

“That’s good.” She carefully slid the picture into her pocket. “So where’s Finlay while you’re here?”

“At the hotel. I brought a friend with me, she’s Finlay’s favorite babysitter. I just needed to come and talk to my parents, get things dealt with. It’s time to move on, I think. Not forget, but just move on.” For a moment he had the urge to twist his wedding ring around his finger, as he had often done in his mother-in-law’s presence but, as he no longer wore the ring, he settled for kneading the tenseness out of his right hand. “I really don’t want to make this weekend any more difficult for you than it already is.” He gazed around the kitchen again. “I stopped by the cemetery the other day. First time I’ve been there since the funeral. And I took Finlay with me. I just thought he should be there, you know? Like maybe somehow Shannon could see him there. And I just . . . I can understand why ‘Taylor’ was omitted from her name, even though that’s what her last name was at the time. I just wish that it said she was also a mother. Because even though she didn’t get to see Finlay, she carried him for eight months, she nurtured him as he grew, and she loved him. I don’t want him, eight, nine years from now to look at that marker and ask why there’s no mention of her being his mother.” He looked at her for a moment, noting the way her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I know I can’t force you to change it, but I hope you’ll at least consider it. My mom has my number if you need to reach me. I’ll buy a new stone if you and Connor decide to change it.” Stepping forward, he placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m really sorry she’s gone. I know she would have done great things if she’d had more time.” Then he stepped back, turned, and walked out of the house that, even though it held a lot of memories, good and bad, had never really been his home.

 

Brian leaned forward and pressed the ‘seek’ button on the rental car’s radio. For the past half-hour they had been listening to some kind of techno music which would have been fine in the sacred confines of Babylon but which, when trapped in the small space of the car, drove him crazy. He paused when the radio stopped on NPR and leaned back in his seat to resume staring at the snow-dusted trees.

“Where the fuck does your grandmother live, the Yukon?”

“Very funny. And she’s my great-grandmother. She’s, like, ninety.”

“Does she know we’re coming?”

“Of course. I’m not going to just drop in on her. I might be willing to do that to my parents, but I actually love my great-grandmother.”

“Does she know about me? Or are we gonna have to go through that whole explanation again?” He turned and studied the younger man for a moment, uncertainty evident in the hazel depths of his eyes.

“I told her that I was bringing the man I’m in love with and also her great-great-grandson. She was happy about both.” He smiled at Brian for a moment. “She’s going to love you. Trust me, she’s not like any great-grandmother you’ve ever met.” 

 

Forty-five minutes later Justin directed the car down a long, winding driveway that led to a white two-story farmhouse. Behind the house was an old red barn. To the right of the house was a modest garage painted in white to match the house.

“I always loved it here,” Justin said quietly, bringing the car to a stop in front of the garage. “It’s so different from the city.”

“Yeah. The house is beautiful.” Brian let his eyes drift over the large front porch and felt a smile form on his lips. “I love the porch. I’ve never lived anywhere with a porch.”

“My great-grandfather built everything, the house, the barn, even the garage.” He gazed toward the house for a moment. “Come on, I’m sure she’s waiting for us. We can unload our stuff later.” The two men climbed out of the car, then Brian scooped Finlay out of his car seat while Justin grabbed his diaper bag. As they were climbing the porch steps the front door opened.

Inga Sorensen’s long white hair was trapped in two thick braids and wrapped in a crown around her head. She wore a heavy white sweater, a long blue skirt, and a pale blue fringed shawl over her impossibly tiny frame.

“Justin!” she exclaimed, her voice heavily accented, even though she had arrived from Sweden over seventy years earlier. 

“Hi, Gran.”

“You are so grown up.” She reached up, resting her thin, wrinkled hands against his cheeks. He leaned over until she could reach him better and plant a kiss on his forehead. “You should have come to see me sooner. But I’ll admonish you for that later.” She lightly patted his cheek, then turned her attention to Finlay, who was gently cradled in Brian’s arms. Smiling, she reached forward and lightly brushed the sleeping child’s blonde hair away from his forehead. Then she gazed up at Brian, who towered over the diminutive woman. “Such a handsome boy. My grandson has good taste.” She smiled and patted his cheek. “Come in, come in, before you all catch a cold. Take off your coats. There’s coffee brewing in the kitchen. You brought your things, didn’t you? You’re staying the night?”

“Yes, Gran, we’re staying,” Justin replied with a chuckle, removing his own coat and then helping Brian out of his, so Finlay could remain sleeping in his arms. “And coffee sounds great.”

“Come on then.” She smiled, then turned and led the way into the kitchen. The room was large, the counter tops and cupboards a rich polished dark wood. Even the table was made of the same wood. “Have a seat, boys, I’ll get the coffee.”

“Thanks, Gran.” Justin began digging through the diaper bag, finally pulling out a small blue blanket. “I’m just going to set Finlay on the floor so he can sleep a little longer.” He spread the blanket on the floor a short distance from the table, then carefully lifted his sleeping son from his partner’s arms and lightly set him on the blanket. The boy shifted for a moment, but remained sleeping.

“So, how did things go with your parents?” Inga asked as she carried two mugs over to the table and set them down in front of the men who now sat side by side.

“About how I expected. Dad’s not too happy with me, but he hasn’t been for a while, so that’s fine.”

“And your mother? Has that granddaughter of mine come to her senses yet?”

“Well, she might be starting to,” he replied with a grin, as the old woman retrieved a small dish of sugar and the milk and set them on the table as well. “I don’t know, I’ve just sort of accepted that this is how things are. I did my part, I was honest with them. If they don’t want to be part of our lives then I can accept that.” He reached over and lightly threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of Brian’s neck.

“Sometimes that’s the best way,” the woman replied, settling herself across from them. Her gaze shifted to Brian as she watched him add milk and several spoonfuls of sugar to his coffee. “So . . . tell me about yourself.”

“Um . . . what do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell. I’m not one to pry.”

“Sure, Gran,” Justin replied with a chuckle, leaning against Brian’s shoulder. “Prying just isn’t your style.”

“Of course not.” She smiled, then looked at Brian again. “So?”

“Um . . . there’s not much to tell, really.”

“What do you do for a living?” she asked, studying him as he stirred his coffee.

“Advertising. I’m a junior partner in an agency back home in Pittsburgh.”

“Do you enjoy that?”

“Yeah, it has its moments,” he replied, grinning at the white-haired woman. “Honestly, I’m looking forward to the day when it’s entirely mine.”

“I’ll bet you are.” She studied him for a moment. “Do you have any children of your own?”

“Yeah, a son. He’s three months old. His name is Gus.”

“Gus? Really?”

“Mm hm,” Brian replied as he sipped his coffee. “Justin was there, Gus was actually born on the night we met.”

The older woman narrowed her eyes at her great grandson. “Did you have a hand in choosing that particular name?”

“No. Well, sort of. His mothers gave that as one of the options, I just asked him what he wanted. He chose Gus.”

“I’m sure he did. And it had nothing to do with your Gus teddy bear.”

“What?” Brian looked at his partner, taking note of the younger man’s usually alabaster skin as it took on a pink tint. “Your teddy bear?” He arched an eyebrow questioningly.

“My husband, Erik, gave him that teddy bear when he was two, and he took it with him everywhere he went. Dragged that damn thing around until it was a complete mess. I was constantly finding little bits of brown fuzz all over the house.”

Brian turned to Justin with a grin. “And you neglected to tell me because?”

“Wasn’t important,” the younger man mumbled, staring into the mocha depths of his coffee cup.

“Mel is going to kill you when she hears about this,” he snickered, his hazel eyes shining. He turned his attention back to Justin’s great-grandmother. “Gus’s biological mother is my friend Lindsay. Mel is Lindsay’s partner. Anyway, Lindsay wanted to name our kid Gus and Mel wanted to name him Abraham. So I asked Justin what he thought and he, in turn, asked Gus. Though Justin neglected to tell me that Gus was also the name of his teddy bear.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Gus is still upstairs, I believe. You left him here when you were ten,” Inga interjected, smiling at the two men.

“I wanna meet him.”

“Brian! It’s a fucking stuffed bear!”

“Is that any way to speak in front of your grandmother?”

“Shut up.” He reached over and pinched Brian’s ribcage.

“Ow.”

“You deserved that,” Justin replied with a grin. Then he frowned slightly and began working the fingers of his right hand in an attempt to prevent the slight twinge from turning into a sharp pain.

“Let me see.” Brian took Justin’s hand between his own and began to lightly massage it.

“It was all that driving. Guess it just took time for it to start acting up.”

“What’s wrong?”

Justin looked up at his great-grandmother, taking note of the concern etched across her face. Apparently his mother hadn’t bothered to tell his great-grandmother that he had been in the hospital.

“I’m okay. And I guess no one told you because they didn’t want you to worry. But, um . . . I was sort of . . . attacked . . . by this guy I used to work with.”

“Attacked?”

“Yeah. He kept asking me out and I kept turning him down, and I guess he didn’t like that too much, so he must have followed me one night when I was staying at Brian’s. When I left he snuck up behind me and hit me with a baseball bat.” He stared down at his hand as Brian continued to work on it. “I was in the hospital for a little while, but I’m okay now. Mostly, anyway. It’s kind of screwed up my hand, though. Motor control damage. But I’m going to therapy and it’s gotten a lot better.”

“Da!”

“I’ll get him,” Brian said quietly, standing and making his way over to Finlay as the little boy pushed himself onto his hands and knees. “Hey there, Sonnyboy.” Finlay looked at him and began giggling, then turned over so that he was sitting and held his arms out to Brian. The taller man reached down and let Finlay grasp his hands, then slowly stand on wobbly legs. “So where do you wanna go, kid? Your dad or your grandma?” He held his hands, following along as the little boy made his way slowly to his great-great-grandmother. Bouncing on his chubby legs, the boy focused on her and giggled. Brian grinned, then cocked his head at the older woman. “Want to hold him?”

“I would love to,” she replied quietly as Brian scooped up the baby and set him on her lap. She wrapped her thin arms around the child as the boy burrowed against the soft material of her sweater. Leaning forward, she placed a light kiss on his forehead, then smiled as he popped his thumb into his mouth.

 

As darkness approached the old farmhouse, Brian and Justin ran out to the rental car to get their luggage while Inga watched Finlay. Justin sniffed the air; snow was definitely on its way.

“So, what do you think?” the younger man asked once he had popped the trunk and walked around to where Brian was standing. He wrapped his arms around the older man’s waist, slipping his hands inside his coat and pressing them against the man’s back.

“She seems really nice. Different than I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I just never thought of grandmothers as being particularly open-minded.”

“She’s always been a bit different from other grandmothers. That’s why she’s sort of the family outcast. She’s lived out here by herself since Grandpa Erik died. She’s a tough lady, though.”

“Ah, so that’s where you get it from.”

“Uh huh. Though I look almost exactly like Grandpa Erik. I think that’s part of the reason why I’ve always been her favorite.” He studied the older man closely. “She really likes you. I can tell.”

“Yeah? How?”

“Cause if she didn’t she would have said something. She’s like that, she’ll say whatever she’s thinking.”

“Are you boys going to stand out there and grope each other all night? Or are you planning to come inside before your balls freeze off?” they suddenly heard from the front porch.

“Did she say what I think she said?” Brian asked, arching an eyebrow at his partner.

“Uh huh. I told you. She’ll say exactly what she’s thinking.” Slipping his hands out of Brian’s coat, he peered around the upraised car trunk to see his great-grandmother as she stood on the porch. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

“See that you are.”

“Hm, bought us another minute,” Justin said, turning and looking at Brian with one of his trademark smiles. He slid his cold hand behind Brian’s neck and pulled him close for a long, passionate kiss, before releasing the older man and beginning to pull their luggage from the trunk.

 

“You boys can have the large bedroom upstairs, the one with the adjoining bedroom. I thought maybe you’d want to set Finlay up in there. Bathroom’s across the hall. You remember the room, don’t you, Justin?”

“Yeah, of course. But didn’t that used to be your room?”

“I moved into the old guest room downstairs. It’s easier on my knees, especially in this cold weather. These old joints aren’t what they used to be.” She grinned at them for a moment. “Dinner will be ready in an hour. I’ll keep Finlay with me while I make it, if that’s all right. Then the two of you can unpack.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Justin asked, leaning over and picking up his son. 

“I never get to cook for anyone anymore, so let me enjoy myself.”

Ten minutes later, Finlay having been placed in his playpen in a corner of the spacious kitchen, Brian and Justin finally made their way into their room. They immediately dropped their luggage and collapsed on the immense four-poster bed.

“I feel like taking a nap. Who came up with this fucked up rule about not being allowed to take naps once you’re an adult?” 

“Obviously not someone who’s had the kind of weekend we’ve been having.”

“It’s had its good moments, though,” Brian replied, turning his head and looking at Justin.

“Yeah, it has.” The younger man rolled over onto his stomach, then climbed on top of Brian. He leaned forward and kissed the other man, his tongue lightly tracing his lips. He undid the first two buttons of Brian’s shirt, then began placing light kisses along his collarbone.

“Baby? Um . . . your grandmother might hear.”

“It’s not like she would care.”

“Maybe. But then again, I don’t think anyone’s had sex in this house in a long time. The shock of hearing it might give her a heart attack.”

“Maybe. But there’s nothing wrong with, as you so aptly put it the other day, ‘making out like a couple of teenagers.’”

“True. The problem with that is that it’s guaranteed to make us both hard. And I really don’t want to face your grandmother with a hard on.”

“If you promise to keep quiet, I’ll take care of it for you,” Justin purred, suggestively licking his lips, then sliding off his partner and beginning to lower the zipper on his black Prada pants.

 

Brian stretched out on the couch in the living room, smiling when Justin, cradling Finlay in his arms, joined him. He handed the tired baby to Brian, a grin finding its way to his lips as Finlay snuggled against Brian’s chest. There was something about Brian holding either of the children that always made his breath catch.

The small boy wriggled slightly, then quietly, almost inaudibly, whispered, “Papa,” as he dug his small fingers into Brian’s black tee shirt, bunching it up in his little hands.

Brian immediately froze, the hand that had been rubbing soothing circles on the child’s back coming to a stop. He gazed down at the small blonde head, searching for some sign that he may have heard wrong, but the boy was already fast asleep. When Brian looked back up it was to find that Justin, who had been sitting on the couch, had moved to the floor and was now kneeling in front of him.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Justin whispered, reaching forward and cupping Brian’s cheek, as unshed tears began to shimmer in his sapphire gaze. “I think it suits you.”

“You’re not upset?” 

“No.” Justin looked into Brian’s hazel eyes, taking note of the worry that had crept into them, worry that he knew he needed to rid the man of. “I wouldn’t have given you temporary custody of Finlay if I didn’t think you’d be a good father to him. I want you to be his other father. I want him to call you ‘Papa.’” He leaned forward and lightly kissed his partner, effectively releasing Brian of any uncertainties he may have had.

 

Brian glanced at the small travel clock that he’d placed on the nightstand. 3:37 and he was wide-awake. He carefully eased himself out of the large four-poster bed so as not to wake Justin, then pulled on his jeans and a sweater. He slipped on his boots, then grabbed his cigarettes and lighter and quietly left the room. A soft light illuminated the staircase as he made his way downstairs. He was just about to open the front door and step outside to smoke his cigarette when a slight shuffling sound caused him to turn around.

“I see I’m not the only one prone to smoking in the middle of the night,” Inga remarked with a smile. She was dressed in a heavy white flannel nightgown with a knit shawl around her shoulders. In her right hand she carried an old pipe, her thumb pressed over the bowl to keep the tobacco from falling out.

“Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep.” Brian opened the front door, then held it as the little old lady stepped out onto the large front porch.

“I love it out here. Always have. Something about the air, especially this time of year, that reminds me of my childhood.” She tilted her head and looked at Brian as he lit his cigarette. “So how bad was it? When Justin was hurt?”

“Um, pretty bad.” He let out a long stream of smoke, then gazed out at the moonlit landscape. “He was bleeding a lot when I got to him. My friend Michael had come over that morning and found Justin lying on the sidewalk in front of my building. Then he had to have emergency surgery because there’d been some pressure building up around his brain from all of the blood.” He took another drag on his cigarette, then ran his fingers lightly over the bracelet encircling his left wrist. “And then he was in a coma for three days. When he woke up he could barely use his right arm.”

“He seems to be doing better.” She rocked back and forth on her slippered feet as she puffed on her pipe.

“He is. He’s back to doing most of what he was before all this happened. And he wants to go back to work. But he still can’t really draw. He just doesn’t have the fine motor control for it right now.”

“He always did like drawing.”

“Yeah, he’s an amazing artist. His therapist is convinced he’ll get most of his fine motor control back eventually, but he’s got his heart seat on going to the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art next fall. I’m just hoping that’s enough time for him to get it back.”

“I wish Jennifer had told me. I would have come to Pittsburgh to see him.” She finished her pipe and tapped out the contents against the side of the porch railing, letting the burnt-out contents fall into the dormant flowerbed below. “Come on, I’m feeling like some brandy.” She looped her arm through Brian’s and led the taller man back into the house. They walked through the living room and through a door into the den. The room’s walls were covered in bookcases from the floor to the ceiling, with a large rolling ladder secured against them to allow access to the tallest shelves. “Justin used to love coming in here when he was a child. He’d disappear for hours and we’d find him in here, reading or drawing.” She led him over to the plush leather couches that decorated one end of the room, facing a large fireplace. 

“It’s really nice in here.”

“It was the one thing Erik insisted upon when we decided to build this house. We knew we would never have a mansion but we wanted a nice house, and he especially wanted a library like a mansion would have. I think he read those old classics so many times when he was a boy that he could barely envision having a house without a huge library.” She poured the brandy, then carried the two glasses over and, handing one to Brian, took a seat across from him. “So do you usually have this much trouble sleeping?”

“I’m a bit of a night owl. Always have been.” He sipped the brandy, then resumed looking around the library. His gaze focused on the large painting over the fireplace.

“That’s me and Erik. He had it done for our tenth anniversary.”

“Justin was right. He looks a lot like your husband.”

“Yeah, he does.” She smiled slightly. “He’s always reminded me of Erik. They both have that same fearlessness. Erik was always throwing himself into one thing or another. It used to drive me crazy. But the thing is, he would never go into things half-heartedly. Whatever he attempted, he attempted with everything he had. Justin is the exact same way.”

“How long were you married?”

“Sixty-two years. I was sixteen when I married him, and he was twenty-four. He was a ship builder back in Sweden, but when we came here he turned to carpentry. He built virtually everything in this house, from the cupboards in the kitchen to the bed upstairs.”

“I don’t know much about carpentry, but I do know quality when I see it. Everything here is beautiful.”

“He would be pleased that you think so,” she replied with a soft smile. “So you never really told me much about yourself.” She leaned back in her chair and sipped her brandy.

“Honestly, there isn’t a whole lot to tell. For the most part, my life has been . . . I don’t know . . . I guess the best word to describe it would be ‘empty.’” He leaned forward and set the glass of brandy on the coffee table.

“And what is it like now?”

“Insane.” He grinned at her. “There have just been a lot of changes since I met Justin. That I’m even able to talk about them like this is a miracle in itself. I’ve always been kind of closed off. Somehow he was able to get me to open up a bit.”

“He has that effect on just about everyone.”

“True. But it’s been insane in a really good way. I never pictured myself settling down. Especially at this point in my life. I honestly always imagined myself being alone. And it wasn’t really something I ever minded, because I just saw it as being inevitable. That was just how it was supposed to be.”

“So what were you like before you met Justin?”

“Oh, God, if I tell you about that you’ll stop thinking I’m good for him.”

“Try me.”

“Um, well, I guess, for lack of a better word, I was a bit of a slut.”

“Why would I think you weren’t good for him because of that? Everyone has a past of some sort. As long as you treat him right then we’ll get along just fine. And, believe it or not, I think you will.”

“Hm, you and him are about the only ones who think that.” He ran his fingers over his bracelet and studied the design for a moment. “Almost everyone else is waiting for me to mess this up. I’ve never had any sort of relationship before. In fact, I always swore I never would. So most of my friends were surprised, to say the least, that I was spending so much time with Justin. And my best friend . . . he’s not taking it too well.”

“Let me guess—he wants you for himself,” she stated.

“Yeah.” He gazed around again, letting his eyes drift over the volumes that lined the walls. He could almost imagine reading each and every one of them, stretched out on this couch in the dead of winter, a roaring fire burning in the fireplace. “I don’t know, it just seems like everything is happening so quickly.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “We were just sort of casually seeing each other for the first month after we met. Then we stopped seeing each other for a little while. We had just gotten back together, like, twelve hours before he was attacked. And I didn’t even know about Finlay until Justin’s friend Daphne turned up at the hospital with him and told me Justin had given me temporary custody of him if something happened to him. Now we’re living together and renovating my loft to make it a three-story home, and I’m constantly thinking that if the first floor of my building becomes available that it would make a great studio for him, or even a gallery if that’s what he wants.” He picked up his glass again and studied the amber liquid. “I’m just not used to including other people in my plans for the future.”

“Let me ask you this, then, Brian . . . do you want to go back to that? To not having anyone else in your life?”

“No. I think I’m happy now. But I’m terrified I’m going to screw it up.”

“Maybe you will. And maybe Justin will. But when I look at the two of you, I almost see Erik and myself. Sort of. You know what I mean. No matter what happens, you’ll always gravitate toward each other and you’ll always be happier when you’re together.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said softly, as a quiet shuffling sound caught his attention. He looked toward the doorway to find Justin entering the room dressed in a pair of pajama pants with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a baby monitor in his left hand.

“Hey.” He squinted his eyes against the bright light. “Was wondering where you were.” He unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn, then dropped onto the couch and snuggled against his partner. “I got cold without you.”

“You’re always cold.” Brian raked his fingers through Justin’s hair and planted a kiss on the top of his head. He eased the monitor from the younger man’s grasp and placed it on the coffee table, then slipped his hand inside the blanket and began lightly rubbing Justin’s back.

“Well, I’ll be going back to bed, then,” Inga said quietly. She made her way over to the men, then leaned forward and dropped a light kiss on Brian’s forehead. “You’re a good boy, Brian.” Then she kissed Justin’s sleep-flushed cheek. “I’ll see you two in the morning.”

“Night.”

“Night, Gran,” Justin murmured, shifting impossibly closer to Brian until his nose was buried against the older man’s neck. “What were the two of you talking about?”

“Just stuff.”

“Told you she likes you.”

“Yeah. Do you wanna go back upstairs or do you want to stay down here?”

“Mm, I want you to make love to me on this couch.”

“What about your grandmother?”

“She’s on the other side of the house. She won’t hear anything. We can be quiet.” He turned slightly and looked around the room. “This was always my favorite place in this house. I came here for a couple of weeks one summer when I was fourteen and I’d sit in here and read these books.” He slid his hands under Brian’s sweater. “I was sitting in here one day when it just sort of hit me that I wanted the man of my dreams to make love to me on this couch.”

“Hm, well, far be it for me to keep your dreams from coming true.” Brian twisted his fingers through Justin’s hair and pulled the younger man close for a long, passionate kiss while his other hand traveled toward the ever-present condom in the pocket of his jeans.

 

Justin stood on the porch beside his great-grandmother as Brian loaded their luggage into the trunk of the rental car. Stepping close to her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders in a slight hug.

“Don’t let anyone tell you you’re too young to know how you feel,” the old woman said suddenly. “I fell in love with my Erik when I was fifteen, and we were together for a long time. And I know you love Brian. It’s apparent every time I look at your face.”

“Yeah. It all kind of came out of nowhere. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“But you’re thrilled nonetheless.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Finlay loves him. He called Brian Papa last night.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. I’m sure Daphne taught him. We’ll have to thank her for it.” He laughed quietly and tightened his arm around the small woman.

“He’s a good man.”

“Yeah, he is, even if he doesn’t always believe it.”

“You’ll convince him, even if it takes years,” she replied as Brian slammed the trunk and made his way back over to them.

“Talking about me again?”

“Of course,” Justin replied with a smile, slipping his arm from around his grandmother and leaning forward to wrap both arms around his partner. He burrowed his face against the other man’s chest for a moment, before leaning back and accepting the light kiss Brian placed on his lips. 

“We should get going. We need to be at the airport in a little while,” Brian quietly reminded them.

“Yeah. I just wish we could stay longer,” Justin replied, smiling sadly at his great-grandmother. “Maybe we could get together for one of the upcoming holidays.”

“Yeah, you could come to the Pitts, check out our new place. Once the renovations are done, it’s going to be really nice,” Brian added as the three of them made their way into the living room, where Finlay sat in his playpen, calmly playing with his toys. Upon spotting the group, he dropped the ball he had been holding and held his arms out.

“Papa!”

“Hey there, Sonnyboy.” He reached into the playpen and picked Finlay up, then held him in the air over his head and slowly spun him around until the little boy began giggling uncontrollably.

“So, before you go,” Inga asked, as Justin began stuffing Finlay’s toys into the diaper bag, “are you boys ever going to tell me the meaning of those matching bracelets you’re sporting?”

“What was it you said?” Justin arched his eyebrow in imitation of his partner. “When I get married I’ll be wearing platinum, but silver will do for now?”

“More or less. Here, you take the munchkin, I’ll get the cage.”

“Yes, dear,” Justin replied in a falsetto as he reached for his son. Ha carried the little boy over to his great-grandmother. 

“Such a little angel,” the woman replied, leaning forward and brushing Finlay’s hair from his forehead, then placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “You need your jacket before you go out in that cold weather, don’t you?” She plucked the jacket from the arm of the couch and helped dress Finlay while Justin held him. 

“Say goodbye to your grandma, Fin.”

“Bye!” the boy exclaimed.

“We’ll call you when we get home to let you know we got there all right.”

“Have a good flight.” She reached up and patted Justin’s cheek, then walked with him to the front door, Brian following behind with the playpen. Justin dropped a light kiss on his grandmother’s cheek, then stepped out of the house and began walking toward the car.

“Brian?”

“Yes?” He stepped onto the porch, then turned and looked down at the tiny white-haired woman.

“Take care of them.”

“I will. I promise.” He studied her for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I just wanted to say thanks. For everything.”

“You’re good for him, Brian. And he’s good for you, too.” She stood on her tip-toes, then pulled him down slightly, and kissed his cheek. “Just so you know, I expect you to make an honest man out of him one of these days.”

“Yeah.” He laughed quietly, then gazed toward the car, where Justin was busy strapping Finlay into his car seat while keeping up a quiet stream of chatter for the child. He’d never known a parent to continually talk to a child who could barely speak, but he was sure Justin’s habit of constantly talking to the boy in full sentences had something to do with the child developing quite the vocabulary for a one-year-old. He smiled, then turned back to Inga. “With us, you just never know.”


	8. Clarity

Justin stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by boxes of all sizes, and smiled as he took in the warm cinnamon walls. It had taken the movers only 4 hours to get everything from his old apartment and into the proper rooms of the newly renovated apartment that was now his home. Most of his and Brian’s new furniture was scheduled for delivery later that same day, so Justin set about pushing the boxes up against the wall to allow room for the bulkiest of the furniture to be placed in the proper locations.

When he and Brian had returned from Chicago Brian found he needed to put in extra hours while at work, so Justin spent his days packing up the apartment and trolling the various furniture stores to find pieces that he thought he and Brian would both like. Day after day he would return home with a backpack full of furniture catalogs that he and Brian would spend the evenings going through in an attempt to find sofas, chairs, tables, and various other pieces of furniture that both men could agree upon. That done, they spent a Saturday actually viewing the pieces in person to see if they were comfortable. Somehow, by the end of the day, they had managed to order all of the furniture necessary for the completion of the second and third floors of their home, as well as their kitchen. The original white table from the loft was being removed and, like the majority of the appliances from the loft’s kitchen area had been, donated to the local hospice.

Justin sighed and made his way over to the box labeled, “stereo and cd’s” and began unpacking. If he was going to do this now, he needed some music to work by. He had just popped in a Moby album when the doorbell, chimes that had been installed rather than the old buzzer, sounded. Turning, he made his way down the new staircase and into the first level of his home, then pressed the intercom button.

“Yes?”

“It’s Debbie.”

“Come on up. The entrance is on the second floor now.” He pulled open the door, a large, intricately carved solid oak door, and held it open as he waited for Debbie to make her way up. A moment later her red wig became visible. “Hey, Deb.”

“Sunshine! A little bird told me you were moving today.”

“And I take it that little bird is named Emmett?”

“Yeah, he came to the diner for breakfast this morning.” She stepped past him into the apartment and he closed the door behind her. “Just thought I’d pop in on my way home and get the tour.”

“Well, it’s not really ready yet. We don’t have any of our new furniture or anything.” He tipped his head in her direction. “Do you want something to drink? Then you can at least see the kitchen, though there’s not much in there.”

“Sure, that would be great.” 

“It’s through here.” He led her down a short hall to the dining room, then through the dining room and into the kitchen. The walls were painted a white color with just the barest tint of green. The countertops were white and the stove and fridge were very large and made of the best stainless steel. “Is water okay? I haven’t had a chance to get to the store yet.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. This is fucking gorgeous, Sunshine!”

“I’m glad you like it.” He smiled as he handed her the cold bottle. “This floor is mostly for entertaining anyway. We’ll use the kitchen pretty regularly, but for the most part we’re living in the top two floors.”

“I never thought I’d see the day Brian would do something like this.” 

“What do you mean?” Justin crossed his arms over his chest, taking note of the way the bright kitchen lights reflected off his bracelet. 

“He’s been attached to that loft since the moment he bought it.”

“It’s still there.”

“But it’s not the same, is it? It used to be . . . oh, I don’t know . . . his showplace.”

“You mean his fuckpad?” He arched his eyebrow as he studied her for a moment. “It still is.”

“You really shouldn’t have to put up with him fucking other guys, Sunshine.”

“Who said anything about him fucking other guys? I never said that.” He turned and opened the refrigerator again, pulling out a bottle of Mountain Dew for himself.

“Well, you said it was still a fuckpad . . .”

“Yeah, for the two of us. We’ve turned it into our master suite.” He drank some of his soda, then studied the red-wigged woman as he screwed the cap back onto the bottle. “Why does all of this seem like such a shock to everyone?”

“I never thought I’d see him settle down. I always hoped he would . . .”

“But you wanted him to be with Michael.” 

“Michael’s been his best friend for fifteen years. You’ve only been around for three months. You can’t really blame me for thinking that the two of you are taking this a little too fast.”

“I learned a long time ago that it does me more harm than good to worry about what everyone else thinks. I worry about what Brian thinks, and I worry about what our kids think, and that’s about it. Everyone else is inconsequential. Because when it comes down to it, our relationship is between us, and I could really give a fuck about what anyone else thinks of it.”

“Brian really isn’t as strong as he might seem, Sunshine. Once he puts up that wall it might seem like he’s solid, but one little push and he’ll go right over. And, maybe I’m speaking out of turn, but I just need to say this. I’m sure you think you love him. Hell, maybe you _do_ love him. But how long will it be before the two of you get tired of each other? Before you get tired of his tricking, and before he gets tired of worrying that you’re going to leave him for someone younger and decides to leave you first?”

“There’s no point in living a life based on ‘what if’s.’ Life is just way too short for that.” He fixed his gaze on the older woman, waiting until he had her undivided attention. “I know he’s like a son to you and that you’re worried about him. But you have nothing to worry about. I don’t intend to go anywhere.”

“You’re young—you have your whole life ahead of you, Justin. What you want now may not be what you want five years from now.”

“What I want is to be living in this house with Brian and our sons. _That_ is what I want, and it’s not going to change. If you and Michael think otherwise, you’re going to be in for a long wait.”

Deb stared at him for a moment, then looked at the clock on the microwave. “I should get going, it’s starting to get late. Just think about what I said. I’ll see myself out.” With that, she set her glass on the counter, then turned and walked out of the apartment.

 

 

By four o’clock the furniture had all been delivered and set in more or less the right locations in the rooms, contingent, of course, on Brian liking their placement. After all, there was nothing that couldn’t be moved. Justin gazed around at the boxes that still needed to be unpacked, then sighed and threw himself down on the large brown leather sofa that now dominated the living room. All afternoon as he’d unpacked his conversation with Debbie had been playing in his mind.

It wasn’t as if he thought nothing could ever tear he and Brian apart. He was more realistic than that and knew that there were things neither could anticipate that could effect their relationship. But it certainly wasn’t helping that Brian’s adopted family, or at least the two most important members, as far as Brian was concerned, seemed intent on convincing him that a relationship with Brian would never last.

Reaching back, he repositioned the pillow behind his head and sighed. He had half an hour before he had to leave to pick Finlay up from daycare. His eyes drifted around the spacious living room. Two years ago he would never have imagined that this would be his life, with a partner and a son, and a home that belonged to all of them. Two years ago he would have imagined that he would still be in Chicago, still going to prep school, still getting along with his parents. But, as cliché as it might have been, he wouldn’t have traded the life he had now for anything.

 

 

Justin was sitting at a small table in the reception area of the daycare center filling out paperwork pertaining to his and Finlay’s move to the Tremont address, when the front door opened and Lori came in, tightly bundled against the cold November day.

“Justin, hi! You’re here early,” she remarked, unzipping her coat and hanging it on the coat rack in the corner.

“Yeah, just had some paperwork to fill out. Finlay and I just finalized our move today, so I thought I’d get this done.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were moving,” she replied, sitting in the chair across from him.

“Yeah. The renovations were just completed a few days ago and all the new furniture arrived this afternoon.” He stood and walked the short distance to the receptionist and handed the papers to her. “So how is school going?”

“Ugh, it’s busy,” she replied, standing and leading him down the short hall to the area where the children were. “Just one more semester and I’m a free woman. Well, at least until graduate school.”

“I know what you mean.” They stood just inside the door and watched the children as they played. Finlay was sitting on the floor with another little boy, watching as the other child pushed a large fire truck in a circle. Finlay looked up as Justin walked over to him.

“Da!”

“Hey, little man.” He picked him up and pressed a kiss to the boy’s cheek.

“Papa?” Finlay looked around, his gaze drifting across the room.

“He’s at work.”

“Papa!”

“We’ll see him in a little while,” Justin replied, as he made his way over to the coat rack to retrieve his son’s small blue coat. He set Finlay on the floor, the little boy clutching at the leg of his father’s jeans so that he could keep his balance. 

“Papa,” Finlay said tiredly, yawning, as Justin helped him into his coat.

“Tell you what? We’ll give him a call, okay?” Justin pulled his phone from his own coat pocket and hit speed dial. He listened for a moment as it rang, then switched over to voicemail, a sure sign that Brian was in a meeting; that was the only time he ever turned his cell phone off. “Fin? Listen to this.” He held the phone a short distance from his son’s ear and let the little boy listen to Brian’s recorded message. The little boy immediately started laughing. “Say hi to your papa,” Justin encouraged as the beep sounded.

“Papa!” Finlay squealed, laughing and clapping his hands. 

Justin smiled, then pressed the phone against his own ear. “Hi, it’s me. Fin wanted to say hi, too. I’m just calling to let you know I’m going to stop and pick something up for dinner. Oh, and the furniture arrived, everything looks great. See you in a little while. I love you.” He snapped the phone shut, then returned it to his pocket. “Okay, Fin, let’s go get dinner, and then we’ll go home.” He swung Finlay up into his arms, then nodded goodbye to Lori.

 

 

Brian stretched out on the new sofa which, amazingly, was long enough for his tall frame, and reached out to Justin, who stood nearby. He pulled the younger man to him until they were laying chest to chest, their legs tangled. His hands gently pushed up the back of Justin’s tee shirt and began rubbing his smooth skin.

“Mm, that’s nice.” Justin pressed his lips to Brian’s, letting his tongue drift over Brian’s lower lip before dipping inside. After a few minutes he sat up, and just studied his partner. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” He slipped a finger under the waistband of Brian’s jeans and popped open the second button, the first one having been already open. Then he slid his hand under the other man’s shirt and began lightly rubbing the taut muscles of his stomach. “What are we doing for Thanksgiving?”

“I’m trying to fuck you and you’re asking about our plans for the national day of gluttony?” Brian’s hands settled on Justin’s sweatpants-clad thighs and slowly began working their way up.

“Yeah. Because it’s just a few days away and we need to figure out what we’re doing.” He reached down and clasped Brian’s hands in his before they found their mark. “I mean, if there’s shopping and planning to be done, I want to do it before the stores run out of everything.”

“I thought we’d be going to Deb’s.” He studied the younger man for a moment, taking in his pale features, his ice blue eyes, his pouty lips. “You don’t want to go to Deb’s.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to . . .” Justin sighed and gazed into the distance for a moment. “For purely selfish reasons, I’d like to spend the day with just you and Finlay. I don’t want to deal with Debbie and her shit.”

“Did she say something?”

“I don’t want to get in the middle of you two. I know you think of her as a mother, and I don’t want to negatively influence your relationship with her.”

“Bullshit! What did she say?” He tightened his grip on Justin’s hands, forcing the younger man to look him in the eye. “You can tell me.”

“More of the usual, I guess. She came by to see the apartment. She thinks you’re still fucking other guys.” 

“I would never have made a commitment to you if that was my intention.” Brian ran his thumb lightly along Justin’s bracelet and smiled. “Maybe I should have gotten you a ring . . . she might have understood how serious we are about this if I did.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want the ring. But I want it when the time is right. And that could be in a few months or a few years. It doesn’t make our commitment any more or less.”

“I just thought everyone else, especially Debbie, would understand that. What else did she have to say?”

“Well, she’s sure I _think_ I love you.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of her. What else?”

“Michael’s put in more time, so he should be the one you’re with. He deserves you more than I do.”

“Bullshit! If I had ever tried to start up anything with Michael she would have skinned me alive. I would be receiving daily threats along the lines of ‘hurt my son and I’ll chop off your balls.’ Besides, I’ve made it abundantly clear that Michael and I would never be more than friends. She’d never want me to be with Michael, anyway. Maybe that’s what Michael wants, but that’s not what she wants for him.”

“Still, it’s what she expected.”

“Fuck her expectations, then. It’s not like I expected to fall in love with an eighteen-year-old twink, but it happened. And I wouldn’t change it, and I’m not going to act like things should be any different. I could care less what Debbie thinks.”

“You know that’s not true. You’re always going to care about what she thinks.”

“Well, it’s getting to the point where I don’t.” He lifted Justin’s hand and kissed his palm. “Did she say anything else?”

“Um . . .” Justin gazed into the distance again, taking in the city lights as they shown outside. “She thinks I’m going to leave you. Granted, she thinks I’ll leave you over your refusal to stop tricking, because she can’t possibly imagine how I could be enough for you, or how you could manage to control yourself around other men. But then again, maybe you’ll get tired of wondering when I’ll trade you in for a younger model and ditch me first.”

“She actually said that?” Brian asked quietly, the hurt in his voice obvious.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.” Justin leaned forward until he was lying against Brian once again, their fingers still entwined. “I don’t want to alienate you from your family.”

“You’re not.”

“Sometimes it just feels that way. Like it’s getting to the point where we don’t have anyone on our side. They’re all waiting for us to fall apart. Christ, we haven’t even been together all that long and they’re waiting for us to break up.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Yeah I do. I’m a cynical bastard, you know that, and if I end up being optimistic about something it’s usually with good reason.” He freed his right hand from Justin’s, then ran it through his hair, tilting the younger man’s head back until he could see his blue eyes. “If I didn’t think we’d be together for the long haul I’d have done my best to keep Finlay from getting attached. It would be hard enough for you to deal with our relationship ending, and I never want you to have to. But Finlay’s just a kid, and it would be a million times harder for him. I don’t want to put either of you through that.”

“I love you so much, you know,” Justin replied with a grin. “And you’re really getting into this whole ‘dad’ thing.”

“Yeah, who’d have thought that would happen?” He chuckled slightly, then raised his head enough that he was able to place a light kiss on Justin’s lips. “We’ll have Thanksgiving here. I’ll go see Deb tomorrow and tell her we won’t be there. Then I’ll talk to the munchers and see if they can bring Gus over for desert once they’ve had dinner at Deb’s.”

“Thanks.” He lay there quietly for a moment, listening to Brian’s heartbeat. “Is cooking a turkey hard?”

“No idea, never done it.”

“Hm.”

“Enough talk.” Brian let his hands once again drift toward Justin’s backside, his fingers hooking the waistband of the younger man’s sweats and pulling them down, then letting his hands graze the smooth skin.

Justin smiled, then leaned forward and gently kissed a trail along Brian’s jaw, before finally reaching his lips. Once they were both out of breath he leaned back and smiled at his partner before untangling his legs and standing. Confident that Brian’s eyes were on him, he turned around and finished removing his sweats, giving Brian a nice view of his backside, then pulled his tee shirt over his head and tossed it on the coffee table. He opened a small box that rested on the table, removed a condom and a small tube of lube, then turned around. Brian’s eyes were riveted to him, his tongue just visible through his slightly-open lips, his breathing still rapid. His hazel eyes were shining. Justin grinned, then tossed the supplies onto Brian’s chest.

“Come on, old man, we’ve got a lot of new furniture to christen.”

 

 

Brian had stopped by the diner and found that Debbie, for once, had an entire day off. That suited him just fine, as he really didn’t want to have this conversation with her in a crowded diner. He slammed the door of his Jeep, then made his way up the sidewalk and onto her porch. Debbie rarely kept her door locked and, as he had done since he was fifteen, he just opened the door and stepped inside. 

“Brian, hey, what brings you by here on a workday?” Vic asked, looking up from his place in the recliner in front of the television. 

“I just needed to talk to Deb about something.”

“Ah. Well, she’s out picking up some things for Thanksgiving. But she’s been gone for a couple of hours, so she should be back soon.”

“Great. You mind if I wait?”

“Not at all, you know I’ve always liked the company of a dashing young man.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as Brian removed his coat and hung it on the rack. “So what’s going on? If you feel like sharing, that is,” Vic asked as Brian sank heavily onto the couch.

“Hm, well, I have to tell Deb I’m not coming over for Thanksgiving this year.”

“Good luck with that one.” Vic laughed softly, then became serious once again. “You know, you haven’t missed a Thanksgiving here in ten years.”

“I know.”

“So why the sudden change?”

He gazed at the t.v. for a moment, taking in the conservative and extremely unflattering haircut of the male news anchor. “She came to our home yesterday, mine and Justin’s, pretty much cornered him, and told him our relationship would never last. Suffice it to say, he’s not that crazy about the idea of spending the day here.” He ran his hand over his face, then glanced toward the window looking out onto the street. “He’s trying really hard to not put me in the middle of all of this, because he knows how much Deb and Mikey and everyone else means to me, but it’s like . . . they keep putting him in this position . . . and he doesn’t want to tell me when they say something, but the minute I look at him I know something’s bothering him.”

“The ironic thing is that Deb was always telling you to settle down.”

“Yeah, I know. Believe me, the irony is not lost on me.”

“Can I ask you something? And tell me if I’m totally out of line, okay?”

“Sure, Vic.”

“Why is Justin ‘the one?’” He leaned forward and squinted at the younger man. “Why, out of everyone you’ve ever been with, and others you know but haven’t, did you choose him?”

“Because . . . he sees who I am, not who everyone thinks I am, and not who he wants me to be. He has from day one. Everyone else . . . Mikey, Ted, the other guys at Babylon . . . they see what I became to keep people out, not who I was underneath all of that. It’s never been that way with Justin. He asks for more of me because he knows that, even if I don’t admit it, it’s what I want to give. Am I making any sense to you?”

“Yeah, you make perfect sense. I’ll tell you this, though . . . if Deb and Mikey can’t see that he makes you happy, that you make each other happy, then fuck ‘em. They should want you to be happy. That’s what you want for the people you love.” At that moment the front door opened and Debbie came in, her arms full of paper grocery bags.

“Brian! Give me a hand, will you?”

“Sure.” 

“So what are you doing here?” she asked a few minutes later as he stood trying to shove the turkey into the freezer. “Is that thing huge, or what? That’s sure to be enough for everyone and then some!”

“Yeah, um, actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Justin and I have decided to have Thanksgiving at home this year."

“What!” She dropped the packages of ready-made pie crusts she had been holding and placed her hands on her hips as she glared at him. “No fucking way! You always come here for the holidays!”

“Not this year.” He wandered over by the sink, then leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest. “Justin wants to stay home, and I have to consider what he wants.”

“Seems he’s getting everything he wants.”

“What about what I want? Does that ever count for anything?”

“Of course it does! Why would you even ask me that?” she screeched, tears coming to her eyes.

“Because it’s obvious you don’t want me to be with Justin. Newsflash, Deb—it’s none of your business. And it’s not your place to come into our home and tell him that we don’t belong together.” He studied her painted features. “It was never going to be Michael.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied quietly.

“Yes I do. And so does he. And, if you’re really honest with yourself, you never wanted me with him, anyway.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m not going to stop living my life because you don’t approve. You should know that by now.” He looked at her again. “I should go, Fin’s probably going crazy waiting for me to get home.” With that he turned, clapped Vic lightly on the shoulder, grabbed his coat, and left Deb’s house. A dull throbbing was already beginning behind his temples and he could feel the tenseness along his shoulders and in the back of his neck. Maybe Justin would be able to do something about that.

 

 

Brian sat on the couch, Finlay cradled against his chest, and flipped through the channels on the television. It seemed that every other channel had football on. Those that didn’t seemed to have _It’s a Wonderful Life._ Ah yes, thought Brian, Thanksgiving is the perfect day to tout Christmas cheer and all of its purchasing incentive. God, he loved working in advertising! The year’s work was mostly done, and he could relax for a month or so, spend the time researching other companies in need of new advertising, and maybe put out some feelers for getting new accounts.

“Papa?”

“We’ll find something, munchkin, don’t worry.” He pressed the channel button a few more times until he landed on a kids channel. SpongeBob SquarePants. Hm. “What about this, Fin, huh? Look? A talking sponge.” He shifted Finlay around so that the boy could see the tv. Surely there was nothing healthy about letting a child his age watch television, but a few minutes of a cartoon sponge probably wouldn’t hurt. Finlay stared at the television for a moment, then pointed at it and started giggling.

“You do realize that in a couple of years we’re going to have to decorate his room entirely in SpongeBob?”

Brian looked up to find Justin standing at the top of the stairs, a smile on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. “The only other thing that’s on is football and Finlay seems to like this better.”

“Pathetic excuse.” He crossed over to the couch and settled in beside them. “Oh, I like this one. SpongeBob decides he’s too old to let his grandma spoil him, but Patrick doesn’t see a problem with it, so SpongeBob’s grandma spoils Patrick, and then SpongeBob gets jealous.”

“Hm,” Brian murmured, tilting his head to the side and looking at Justin through narrowed eyes. “Everyone was right, it seems. You’re a child.”

“Fuck you.” He reached over and pinched Brian’s ribcage, and then, smiling, leaned against him and rested his head in the crook of his partner’s neck. “SpongeBob is loved by all ages.”

“I’ll take your word for it. How’s everything coming? Need any help?”

“Everything’s good. Couple more hours. I’m trying not to go overboard, so I’m not making a whole lot. Some mashed potatoes, a few dinner rolls, steamed broccoli, and the turkey. And apple and pumpkin pies for desert. But I made those yesterday, so there’s nothing to worry about there.”

“Good to know. I don’t want you to spend the entire day cooking.”

“I won’t be. Besides, I like this, just sitting here.” He reached out and smoothed Finlay’s hair from his forehead. “What time are Mel and Lindsay coming by?”

“Oh, um . . . around five, I think.”

“Perfect. We’ll even have time for a nap.”

“I don’t nap.”

“You have to nap. It’s a Thanksgiving tradition,” he replied, as Finlay turned to him, arms held out as he began to sniffle. “What’s wrong, baby?” He took the boy and set him on his lap, taking note of the tears that were forming in his eyes. He ran his fingers through Finlay’s hair, then down the side of his face, pausing when his sobs became louder as his finger reached his cheek. “Is that it, Fin?” He gently eased his finger into Finlay’s mouth, carefully feeling along his gums, before slipping his finger out and offering the boy a small smile.

“What’s wrong?” Brian asked.

“He’s cutting a new tooth.” Justin smiled. “That’s number four.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sure there’s a teething ring in the freezer.”

“How long will it take for his tooth to come in?” Brian asked, following Justin downstairs and into the kitchen. 

“Should only be a few days. But he can be pretty miserable during it. Not that I blame him, of course. And sometimes it’s harder to get him to eat.” He opened the freezer and, after a moment’s search, found the ring. He handed it to Finlay, smiling when the little boy immediately popped it into his mouth.

 

 

“Christ,” Brian muttered, easing out of the chair and stepping away from the dining room table. “Why the fuck do I always let myself eat three times what I normally would just because Thanksgiving is the one holiday that encourages gluttony?”

“Because you can be entirely guilt free?” Justin asked with a grin as he began covering the leftovers and piling them into the fridge. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “It’s only three . . . you could take a nap.”

“I never nap,” he insisted, covering a yawn. 

“It’s the triptophan, you know. No one will hold you responsible.” He grinned, then wandered over to Brian and leaned against him, one hand lightly rubbing his stomach. “I won’t even tell anyone you had three servings of potatoes. Which, as you know, are full of carbs.”

“Mm, promise?”

“Yeah.”

“’Kay. I’ll just stay down here, then. Haven’t tested out the downstairs sofa yet.”

“I’ll come join you as soon as I’m done in here and have put Fin down for his nap, okay?” He lightly kissed Brian, then smiled as he watched him make his way down the hall leading from the dining room to the living room.

True to his word, ten minutes later he joined Brian on the sofa. The older man awoke just enough to tangle his legs with Justin’s and wrap an arm around the blonde, pulling him flush against his chest. With a smile, Justin sighed and burrowed against Brian, his face rubbing against the smooth material of his worn white v-neck tee shirt. As far as Thanksgivings went, this one definitely had to be the best.

 

 

Friday evening Justin sat on the couch slowly doodling, trying to work on his fine motor control and see what he was capable of doing at this point in his recovery. Brian sat at the opposite end of the couch, his legs woven among Justin’s, and a biography of Jack Kerouac propped against his chest. Justin hadn’t been at all surprised when, during the casual stage of their relationship, he had discovered Brian to be a bookworm. The older man hadn’t seemed the type to just sit in front of the television during his downtime—he needed something to keep his mind engaged.

“Celebrities always die in the bathroom.”

“What?” Justin burst into laughter and had to set his pencil down for fear of damaging the doodle he had been working on and which, amazingly, looked pretty good.

“They do.” He laid the book face down on his chest and began rubbing his left lag against Justin’s. “Elvis died in the bathroom. So did Jim Morrison. And Kerouac, he was nearly dead in the bathroom when his wife found him and called the ambulance.”

“Remind me never to be a celebrity, then,” he chuckled as the doorbell rang.

“Are you expecting someone?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Could be one of the guys,” he replied, standing and setting his book on the coffee table. Then he turned and made his way toward the stairs. He sighed, then pressed the button on the intercom. “Yes?”

“Brian, it’s your mother.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. He pushed the button again, “Is this important?”

“Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Fine, come on up. The entrance is on the second floor now.” He pushed the button releasing the latch on the front door, then opened the large wooden door to his home and waited for his mother. It didn’t surprise him at all that she took the elevator up just one floor; it was clear when she stepped out that she’d already had a few drinks.

He studied her for a moment, this woman who had borne him, and briefly wondered what it was like to have a mother you could feel close to. A mother worthy of the title. Her hair was different from the last time he’d seen her, shorter, cropped closely to her head. She wore a long tan coat over a blue denim dress, and her silver cross, the one her mother had given her as a wedding present, shone against the denim. He silently stepped to the side and let her pass.

“Well, this is certainly different,” she said quietly, looking around the entryway.

“Yeah, I had some work done recently. I’d offer you a drink but it appears you’ve already had some.” He closed the door, then tilted his head and stared at her. “How did you get here? I hope you didn’t drive.”

“Claire drove me. She’s waiting in the car.”

“Best not keep her waiting long, then,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at her for a moment until Justin caught his attention as he made his way down the stairs, Finlay in his arms.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said quietly, looking first at Brian, then at the older woman standing across from him.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s your home, too.”

“Papa,” the little boy sniffled.

“He’s got another tooth coming in. It woke him up.”

“Papa.”

“Come here, Sonnyboy.” Brian stepped around his mother, ignoring the stunned look on her face, and gently extricated Finlay from his father’s arms. He let the boy bury his face against his chest, then reached up and gently tugged down the small shirt that had crept up, exposing the little boy’s back. Then he turned to his mother. “Have a seat, we’ll be right back.”

“Is that your mother?” Justin asked quietly once they were in the kitchen. “I’m so sorry, Brian, I had no idea, I just assumed one of the guys was here.”

“It’s okay.” He slipped his free hand behind Justin’s neck and pulled the younger man close for a kiss. He let his tongue gently trace Justin’s lips for a moment before leaning back an offering him a small smile. “She doesn’t matter, okay? What she thinks doesn’t matter. Just be prepared to be warned of fire and brimstone.” He reached around the younger man and opened the freezer, pulling out the cold teething ring and passing it to Finlay. The little boy immediately popped it into his mouth, then wiggled, a sure sign that he wanted to get down. Brian carefully lowered him to the floor, held onto the child’s free hand, and slowly guided him toward the living room where Joan Kinney was waiting.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Brian asked a few minutes later as he, Finlay, and Justin settled on the sofa opposite the chair his mother was sitting in. He set Finlay on his lap, letting the small boy recline against his chest.

“I’d prefer we discuss this without company.” She cast her eyes disdainfully in Justin’s direction.

“Oh, sorry. Let me make the introductions. Mom, this is my partner, Justin Taylor and our son, Finlay. Justin, this is my mother, Joan Kinney.”

“Mrs. Kinney.” Justin nodded his head in her direction, the country club manners he had been reared with dictating that he at least be polite.

“What . . . um . . .”

“Why are you here?” Brian asked quietly, reaching forward and pulling down Finlay’s shirt, which had begun to creep up his chubby belly.

“How old are you?” Joan’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Justin, ignoring Brian’s question in the process. “You can’t be much more than a child.”

“I’m eighteen.”

“And this child is obviously yours?” Her frown deepened at she looked at the small boy who so closely resembled the young man at her son’s side.

“He’s ours, but yes, biologically he’s mine.” He reached over and brushed Finlay’s wispy hair away from his forehead.

“I hope you know how wrong it is to . . . to live as you do, let alone raise a child in your world.”

“We live in the same world as everyone else,” Brian replied quietly. “And before you criticize how we care for our children, take a good, hard look at how you cared for yours.” He studied his mother for a moment, then sighed. He wanted nothing more than for her to go away so that he and Justin could go back to enjoying their evening. “So why are you here?”

“I just thought you’d want to know your father died two days ago. The wake is tomorrow at Ridgley Brothers Funeral Home at one o’clock, and the funeral will be directly after at Mt. Hope Cemetery. After that, we’re gathering at the house.”

“What?” He reached up and pinched his eyes shut for a moment. “Two days ago, and you’re just now telling me?”

“There were arrangements to be made. Your sister and I have been busy. Besides, it’s not as if you wanted anything to do with us anyway.” 

“How did he die?”

“Lung cancer. His doctor found it in May.”

“And you couldn’t be bothered to tell me this, either?” He began lightly rubbing Finlay’s stomach, taking not of the way his mother’s eyes traveled toward the movement of his hand.

“He didn’t see the point.”

“Maybe there were things I wanted to tell him.”

“Like this?” she replied, gesturing at Justin and Finlay. “Do you honestly think he would have wanted to hear that this is what your life has become? To know that you’re on your way to Hell?”

“I don’t care what he wanted. Just like he didn’t care what I wanted that time he slammed my head into the closet door. Or that time he pushed me down the stairs. Or the first, second, and third time he fractured my ribs.”

“You always have to blow everything out of proportion.” She clutched her purse more tightly, her knuckles turning white with the effort. “Perhaps it would be best if you stayed away from the funeral.” Her gaze shifted to Justin again, before returning to her son. “I highly doubt your father would want you there. And now that I know what kind of man you really are, and a pedophile to boot, I don’t want you there, either.”

“Get out.” Justin stood and crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at the woman.

“Excuse me? You have no right—.”

“I have every right.”

“Go home, Mom,” Brian said quietly, suddenly tired. He looked down at Finlay, resting his lips against the little boy’s soft blonde hair. Then he stood and made his way over to Justin. “I need to go upstairs. Can you deal with her?”

“Yeah.” He reached up and ran his fingers along Brian’s cheek. “You look really tired.” He leaned forward and lightly kissed the taller man, ignoring the small gasp of horror from Brian’s mother. “Start the shower and I’ll join you in a few minutes,” he whispered, offering Brian a small smile. “I’ll take Fin.”

“You sure?” His gaze shifted over Justin’s shoulder and toward Joan.

“Yeah, I’ll put him back down for the rest of his nap when I come up.” Finlay held against his hip, he leaned forward and kissed Brian one more time, then watched as the taller man made his way upstairs before he turned toward Joan Kinney. “Let me open the door for you.”

“I don’t know how you can allow my son to treat you this way.”

“And what way would that be? Like a lover? A partner? A spouse? Because whether you approve or not, that’s what I am. We don’t need your permission to live our lives. Now, our son would like to resume his nap, so you’ll have to go.” He held the door open and glared at her until she stepped into the hall. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to close the door quietly, even though he wanted nothing more than to slam it in her face.

 

Brian stood under the showerhead, his hands and forehead pressed against the tile, water cascading down his back. Justin stood just inside the bathroom door, letting his eyes feast on his lover’s beauty, before he quickly stripped off his tee shirt and jeans. Opening the shower door, he stepped inside and immediately wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist, resting his cheek against the taller man’s shoulder blade. He let his left hand drift to Brian’s stomach, rubbing soothing circles as he did so.

They stood that way for several minutes before Brian spoke. “Sorry I left you with her. I just couldn’t look at her anymore.”

“I understand.” He pressed a kiss to Brian’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, then turned around, staying within the confines of Justin’s arms as he did so. “I just . . . never got to tell him who I am. He thought he knew, but he didn’t. And . . . if someone had just told me he was dying, I could have told him.”

Justin reached up and pushed Brian’s wet hair away from his forehead. “You still can. If you go to the funeral you can lay it all to rest. Say everything you never got to say while he was alive.” He studied Brian’s eyes for a moment and knew the man was making an effort to not cry. After all, crying wasn’t his style. 

Justin’s hands came to rest on the back of Brian’s head, his fingers lost amid the wet locks. Drawing him down, he pressed a kiss to Brian’s forehead, then proceeded to kiss first one eyelid and then another, finally culminating in a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s okay.” He let his arms slip back around Brian’s waist, holding him until the water began to turn cold.

 

 

The pounding started out quietly, then grew louder as Justin became more aware. Groaning, he looked at the alarm clock on his side of the bed. 8:45 p.m. And the pounding was coming from the loft door, which still remained in place following renovations, but which was no longer used for entering the apartment. He glanced over at Brian, taking in his sleeping form.

Sitting up, he grabbed Brian’s blue silk robe and quickly wrapped it around himself, then made his way toward the loft door. Pulling it back slightly, he came face to face with Michael. Inwardly, he groaned again.

“This isn’t a good time,” Justin said quietly. “And the entrance is on the second floor now. Which you would have noticed if you’d looked at the doorbell downstairs.”

“Brian!”

“Shut the fuck up, Michael, he’s asleep.”

“He never sleeps during the day. Brian!” He placed his hand on Justin’s shoulder and shoved him out of the way enough that he was able to slip into the master suite. He made a beeline for the bed, Justin at his heels.

“Mikey.” Brian scrubbed a hand over his face, letting his head fall back onto his pillow.

Justin glared at Michael. “You fucking push me out of the way again and I’ll break your goddamn wrist.” Then he looked at his exhausted partner. “I tried to stop him but the fuckhead didn’t seem to understand when I told him you were sleeping.” Justin cut his eyes toward Michael, returning the glare the older man had been giving him since the moment he opened the door to him.

“I know, I woke up at the first screech of my name.”

“I came by to see if you wanted to go to Babylon. We haven’t hung out in ages.”

“No, I don’t want to go to Babylon. Or Woody’s. Or anywhere else, for that matter.” He groaned, then rolled over and buried his face in his pillow for a moment before flopping onto his back once again. “Christ, all I wanted was a quiet night at home.” 

“I’m gonna go check on Finlay.” He narrowed his eyes at Michael, then returned his attention to Brian. “Your turn to return the favor—get rid of him,” Justin said, turning and making his way toward the staircase, now located in the nook that once held the chaise. 

Brian climbed out of bed, ignoring the way Michael’s eyes roamed over his naked body, and removed a pair of jeans from his dresser. He quickly slipped them on, then turned to face the other man. “How the hell did you get into the building?”

“My key. It doesn’t seem to be working on the loft door anymore, though.”

“Yeah, because I had the locks changed. Give me the key.”

“What?”

“Give me the key. It doesn’t work anymore, anyway.” He held out his hand, relieved when Michael finally removed it from his keychain and dropped it in his palm. Brian slid the key into the pocket of his jeans, then sighed, and exited the bedroom, making his way over to the white leather couch and sinking onto it, waiting for Michael to join him.

“Wait. What about a new key?”

“You’re not getting one.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I don’t have one to David’s and your place.”

“Well, that’s different.”

“How is that different? You’re a couple and that’s your home. Just like this is my home with Justin. We can’t have people just walking in.” He glared at Michael for a moment. “Speaking of which, what the fuck were you thinking pushing past him and walking in here?”

“He wouldn’t let me see you.”

“Because I was asleep!” Quickly standing, he began pacing back and forth in front of the large windows. “Joanie stopped by today, told us we were going to Hell and, oh yeah, my dad died two days ago, funeral’s tomorrow, so you’ll have to excuse me if I felt like taking a fucking nap in my own home, in my own bed, with my partner, on a weeknight.” 

“Oh, God, Brian, I’m so sorry! I mean, I know you didn’t always get along with your dad . . .” He moved toward Brian as though he were planning to hug him, but Brian’s glare had him quickly changing his mind. “I’m, you know, I’m here for you. Do you want me to come to the funeral with you? Cause I can call in sick tomorrow. That won’t be a problem.”

“Justin’s going with me.” He returned his gaze to the busy street below.

“But he didn’t even know your dad! He doesn’t know anything about your childhood!”

“Yes he does, because I told him. He’s my partner, Michael, just leave it alone.” He walked over to the shorter man, then wrapped his hand around Michael’s bicep and pushed him toward the large metal door. “Next time try and call first. And if you can’t be bothered with that, at least buzz the door and come in the right entrance.” He lightly pushed Michael into the hallway, then slammed the door.

 

 

Large flakes of snow fell the day of Jack Kinney’s funeral. It was, ironically, an almost surreally beautiful winter day to bury such a prick, Brian thought. He turned his head slightly and looked at Justin. His fair skin had taken on a pink tint from the cold, his lips becoming a deeper shade of red than usual. Were he anywhere else, Brian would have given in to the urge to kiss him. As it was, all he could do was step slightly closer to the younger man until their shoulders were touching.

His eyes drifted to his sister, her sobs loud and very visibly wracking her body. Obviously she would miss the old bastard, she was forever viewing their childhood through rose-colored glasses. Brian tilted his head slightly and looked at the young minister presiding over the service. Reverend Tom Butterfield. He looked familiar, but Brian didn’t go to church anymore, hadn’t gone since he was fifteen. Brian studied him a bit longer, then lightly grabbed Justin’s arm and led him toward a tall monument before disappearing behind it and beginning to quietly laugh.

“Um, care to share the joke?” Justin asked quietly.

Brian wrapped his arm around his stomach, then leaned against the monument in an attempt to quell his laughter. “I fucked the esteemed Reverend Butterfield once. It was a long time ago, before I met you. But good old Joanie once told me she thinks of him as a son. I didn’t know who the fuck she was talking about at the time. But . . . oh God, the irony. Joanie hates fags, so does Claire, so did Jack, but Joanie’s adopted son, the reverend, the one who’s performing good old Jack’s service, is as gay as we are.”

“Christ!” Justin muttered, chuckling quietly. “Well, there’s a story to tell our grandkids one day.” He smiled at the older man for a moment, waiting for him to regain his composure. “We’d better get back. I’m sure your mother thinks we’re off fucking.”

“Yeah, probably.” Brian grinned, then wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulders. “Come on.” He gazed back toward the funeral, then led Justin back to the crowd gathered around the simple box, smiling at his mother when she glared at him, and pulling Justin closer.


	9. Clarity

Justin tipped his head back, a small groan that was swallowed by the bass pounding through the sound system escaping his lips, as Brian licked the underside of his jaw while simultaneously sliding one hand into the back of his cargo pants. Reaching up, he trapped Brian’s head between his hands and met his lips in a forceful kiss, pulling away only long enough to whisper, “Fuck me,” close enough to the man’s ear that he could hear him.

“Backroom?”

“Uh huh.”

“Mm. Haven’t fucked in there in a long time.”

“Want to.” His eyes flickered toward Brian’s, taking in the sparkle in their hazel depths. Then, smiling, he slipped his finger through Brian’s belt loop and began pulling the man toward the entrance at the end of the bar. He remembered the room well enough from the last time he had been there with Brian and he knew, if he went far enough into the cement-walled abyss, that he would find the old leather car seats in a secluded area behind a chain curtain.

“Don’t wanna be the main attraction?”

“Mm, not tonight. Maybe next time,” he replied, unbuttoning Brian’s jeans, pushing them down to his ankles, then gently pushing the man onto the seat. He removed a condom from the pocket of his cargoes and tossed it to his partner. Then he began removing his own clothes.

“What do you want tonight?” Brian smiled, his eyes half-closed.

“I wanna ride you.” He set his clothes on the seat beside Brian, then climbed atop the older man and captured his lips once again.

 

“Well well well . . . don’t you look freshly fucked?” Emmett observed as Justin joined him at the bar. “Where’s Brian?”

“Bathroom. We’re gonna head home in a little while, I think.”

“Hm. Must be nice.”

“What?” Justin asked as Emmett handed him a beer.

“Having someone to go home with on a regular basis. To go home _to._ Instead of just having a quick fuck in the backroom with someone who you know you’ll never see again, unless it’s just in passing.”

“I’d assume quick anonymous fucks could be fun for a while. I don’t know, I’ve never had one.”

“It gets tiring, though. Always on the hunt for the one, and never finding him. Granted, it’s turned me into one hell of a good bottom, but I wouldn’t mind finding the right guy and settling down.” He narrowed his eyes momentarily as he studied the younger man. “Tell me something—have you ever been with anyone else?”

“Why would I want to be?”

“Yeah, why would he want to be?” Brian echoed, stepping behind Justin and reaching over his shoulder for his half-finished beer. “Everyone else would just be a disappointment anyway—if my reputation is to be believed, I’m the best.”

“You do realize that you’re not going to be able to maintain your reputation much longer now that you’ve got a husband,” Emmett pointed out, grinning at Brian.

“Hm, don’t care.”

“I’m not his husband, Em,” Justin said quietly. 

“Not yet.”

“Oh?” Emmett cocked a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “Does this mean wedding bells will be ringing soon? Should we expect matching rings to go with those lovely bracelets?”

“No comment.” Brian set the empty bottle on the bar, then reached for Justin’s hand and wove their fingers together. “And on that note, I think we should get going.”

 

“You’ve never been with anyone else?”

“Huh?” Justin rolled over and looked at his partner, taking in the way the blue lights shone on his sweat-slicked skin.

“I mean, I know you were a virgin when we got together, at least as far as guys go, but during the whole time we were seeing each other casually, even when we stopped seeing each other, you never fucked anyone else?”

“No. Bri, is this because of what Emmett said?” He reached over and let his fingers dance along Brian’s skin, lightly tracing his ribcage.

“I just . . . I don’t want you to have any regrets about us. I don’t want . . . a couple years from now when you’re in the middle of college, and everyone around you is going on and on about who they’re fucking, and what parties they’re going to, I don’t want you to resent me. To feel tied down.”

“Well, I _am_ tied down, but not because of you. I’m tied down because it’s what I want. It’s in no way a negative thing. I like my life. I love my son and I love you. And I wouldn’t change my life for all the fucking in the world. I don’t need that.” He rolled onto his stomach, his face inches from Brian’s. “I need you.” He ran his thumb lightly over Brian’s bottom lip, then leaned closer to lick the spot his thumb had touched. “I love you.” 

“I just want you to be sure,” Brian replied quietly, reaching up and running his fingers through Justin’s slightly damp hair.

“I wouldn’t be doing any of this if I wasn’t.” He pressed another kiss to the man’s lips, then rested his head on his chest, their fingers entwined and resting against Brian’s stomach.

 

The snow had nearly melted, a virtually unheard of occurrence in the Pitts in early December, as a warm front had move in from the Southeast. On this unseasonably warm day, Justin stood leaning against his car, Finlay bouncing up and down while he held onto his hands, as he waited for Daphne. After a moment, he heard the bell ring inside the school, then watched as the students began to file out. He smiled as Finlay began laughing, excited at seeing so many people.

“Neenee?” he asked, looking up at Justin.

Justin had been surprised at first when Finlay started calling for ‘Neenee’ but after a little trial and error, in which he finally pointed at a drawing of Daphne he came to understand that Finlay was asking for his favorite babysitter. “She’ll be here in a minute.” When he looked up again it was to find three girls watching him from a few yards away. He offered them a small smile, then turned his attention back toward the building.

“Your brother is adorable.”

He looked back toward the girls, unsure of which girl had spoken, but noticing that they were standing closer than before. “Thank you, but he’s my son.”

“Neenee!” Finlay screeched, beginning to bounce more as he spotted Daphne walking down the steps of the school. “Da, Neenee.”

“I see her, Fin.”

“Hey, Justin.” Daphne leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then bent over and picked up Finlay. “Hey, little guy.”

“Neenee!” He wrapped his little arms around her neck and hugged her for a moment.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to him calling me that.”

“Still, it’s cute.”

“Yeah, it is. So what’s the plan?” she asked, repositioning Finlay so that the majority of his weight rested against her hip.

“I just thought we could check out the mall.” He stood to the side, watching as she opened the car door and began the process of strapping Finlay into his car seat. “I honestly have no idea what to get Brian for Christmas. I kind of thought maybe you could help me find something.”

“He can’t be that hard to shop for,” she said a moment later as they climbed into the little black Honda.

“Well, the thing is, he’s already got just about everything he could need or want. Plus, he’s the world’s biggest label queen, so that just makes it twice as hard. I have to get him something that he’ll love, but that will also be top quality.”

“And you’re planning on finding this at the mall?” she asked with a grin, as Justin maneuvered the car into traffic. 

 

Brian gazed at the clock in the corner of his monitor and groaned. It was only three o’clock, two hours at least before he could leave, and there was no telling if Justin was going to be home when he got there, since he and Daphne had taken Finlay to the mall. Sighing, he turned back to the boards in front of him. Something just wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He suspected the color was wrong, maybe the font of the logo, but he wasn’t certain. Maybe he’d take them home and ask Justin for his opinion.

“Brian?” Cynthia stepped into his office. “There’s a Jennifer and a Molly Taylor down in reception.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Brian scrubbed his hands over his face.

“In-laws?”

“Fuck you. Justin’s mother and little sister.” He leaned back in his chair, then sighed. “Send them up, but give me ten minutes. Don’t bother going down to meet them, just meet them at the elevator.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Fuck!” Brian muttered as she closed the door. He scrubbed his hands over his face, then stood and stepped into his personal washroom. He splashed a little cold water on his face, then made sure his hair was impeccable. A moment later he opened his office door to find Jennifer and Molly sitting on the sofa, their two suitcases leaning against the coffee table.

“Brian, hey, cool office.”

“Thanks, Molly. Are you two hungry? Molly, do you want to go with Cynthia across the street to get something to eat? I’d kind of like a few minutes to talk to your mom.”

“Um, okay. Are we gonna be able to see Justin?”

“Of course, I know he wouldn’t want to miss seeing you.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and handed Molly a fifty. “Cyn, get me a latte while you’re over there.”

“Sure, Brian.”

“So what’s going on?” he asked a moment later, once he and Jennifer were alone. 

“Um, I’ve left Craig. I didn’t know where else to go. All of the friends I have back in Chicago are more likely to side with him, so I couldn’t really turn to any of them.”

“Why didn’t you call and let us know you’d be here?”

“I was going to—tomorrow. I was going to get a hotel room once we got to town, but in the time it took to get here Craig froze all of our accounts,” she replied, fresh tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with the pads of her fingers. “I have my credit card, but I only have enough left on it to get tickets back to Chicago. I know I’ll have to go back but I just . . . I wanted some time to think.”

“Okay. I’d give you the money for a room if I thought that’s what Justin would want. But I know that, despite the way things have been between the two of you for the past couple of years, he still loves you. So for tonight you can stay with us. We’ll figure the rest of it out in the morning, once you’ve had a chance to calm down and think things over.” He stood and began pacing the room. “Have you talked to your husband since you left?”

“No.”

“You should call him, especially since you have Molly with you. It’ll be a miracle if he doesn’t try and bring you up on kidnapping charges. You can use the phone on my desk, just dial nine to get an outside line,” he said as his cell phone began vibrating. He glanced at the display, then flipped it open as he watched Jennifer slowly make her way into his office. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi.”

“Are you still at the mall? Sounds like you are?”

“Yeah, Daphne took Fin in to change his diaper so I’m waiting in the oh-so-lovely food court. I can feel the grease clogging my pores already.”

“Hm, we’ll just have to take care of that when you get home. Speaking of which, how much longer are you going to be at the mall? Or has its infectious good nature made you revert from the mature adult that you are into the bratty teenager that comes second-nature to most people your age?”

“Fucker. Anyway, we’ve already been here almost an hour, so I don’t think we’ll be too much longer. I should be there by five.”

“Okay, great. I think I might duck out a bit early today.”

“Lucky you. So, are you going to give me any hints at all as to what you want for Christmas?”

“Nothing that you can hope to find in a mall, that’s for sure.” He looked up as Jennifer exited his office. “Listen, I have to go. See you in a little while.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“You too. Later.” He snapped the phone shut, then slid it into the pocket of his trousers. Then he turned to Jennifer. “I just have a few things to take care of, then we can head out.”

“Thank you, Brian.”

He nodded curtly, then wandered over to Cynthia’s desk and began looking through the boards that she had left there. He picked up one set and began flipping through them. Picking them up, he carried them into his office, then sat down and dialed down to the art department. “Murph, it’s Brian. What the fuck is going on with the boards for Diaz Electronics? The blue background is the wrong shade, we agreed on sky blue and this is more of a periwinkle. The font is the wrong size and the wrong style. I want it in 28-point Onyx. That’s what I have in my notes, Murph. That’s what I should have sitting in front of me right now. I want the boards fixed and sent up within the hour. And send them up with whoever it was that fucked them up in the first place.”

“Brian, I’m really sorry. I had our new intern look them over before sending them up and I thought he caught everything.”

“Send him up with them, Murph. I’m going home early tonight, so the sooner you get them up here the better.” He slammed the phone down, then placed a post-it on the boards and wrote, “These are for shit. Murph is doing new ones.” Standing, he exited his office and returned the boards to Cynthia’s desk just as the woman and Molly came through the door.

“Double non-fat latte.” She passed the drink to him. 

“Thanks.” He glanced over at Molly as she took a seat beside her mother and set her bag on the coffee table. Then he turned his attention back to Cynthia. “You wouldn’t happen to have any Excedrin in that massive purse you carry around, would you?”

“Of course. Though, considering the insanity of your life in recent months, you might want to consider investing in Bristol-Myers Squibb. Your Excedrin purchases alone could keep their company afloat.” Then, flashing Brian a devious smile, she removed her purse from her desk drawer and began digging through it for the coveted green bottle.

 

Jennifer was surprised when Brian stopped his Jeep in front of a large warehouse though, obviously, it had been converted into apartments. She stared at the building for a moment before opening the door and stepping onto the bare sidewalk. 

“This is where you live?”

“Yes. For a few years now,” Brian replied, walking around the Jeep and carefully extricating the luggage that had been stowed in the back.

“It looks old,” Molly piped up.

“It is. The building used to be a small textile factory. It was built in 1898. But the factory closed in 1950. After that it was a department store. Then a fire gutted the store in 1962. For a long time this building just sat here,” Brian replied, opening the front door and holding it so Jennifer and Molly could pass. Once in the lobby, he grabbed his and Justin’s mail, tucked it under his arm, and led them to the elevator. “We’re just one flight up. I just don’t feel like carrying the luggage up the stairs.” He punched the button. “Anyway, this whole area went through a period of revitalization in the mid-1980’s. It was a mess down here before that. Once that was completed, this entire area became really expensive. My friend Mikey lived about six blocks away at the time, so I was constantly walking by here.” The elevator stopped and he picked up the luggage once again. “Anyway, by the time I was twenty-five the cost of living here had dropped enough that I could afford to move in. So I did.” He unlocked the door to the apartment, then flipped on the lights and quickly deactivated the alarm.

“It sure doesn’t look like it was ever a factory,” Molly remarked, quickly moving from the entryway into the living room. “Mom, look, Justin’s art.” She made her way over to a small sketch Justin had done of Finlay when he was a baby. “Brian, do you think he might draw me while I’m here?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him. He might not be able to.”

“Why not?”

“His hand’s still a little weak. It’s getting better, it’s just taking some time.” He glanced at the clock. “Justin should be here in a little while. Let me show you the guest rooms.” He grabbed the luggage again and turned left, making his way down the short, narrow hallway. “While you’re unpacking I’m going to get changed.”

“Armani, right?” Molly asked, tilting her head and momentarily studying Brian’s suit.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” he replied, unable to suppress a grin.

“Justin said you’re a label queen, and that you like Prada and Armani, but that you usually wear Armani to work.” She looked up at him again. “What’s a label queen?”

“Hm, you in five years, I’m thinking.” He turned to Mrs. Taylor. “The other guest room is just across the hall.”

“Thank you, Brian,” she replied quietly. As she gazed around the guest room while her daughter began to unpack she couldn’t help wondering, and not for the first time, if Justin might, in fact, be exactly where he wanted to be.

 

When Justin stepped into his home, he was shocked to find his mother and his sister sitting on the sofa watching television. Never in his wildest dreams would he have expected to find them there.

“Jester!” Molly jumped up and ran over to him, throwing her arms around his waist and hugging him. “I missed you.” Then she released him and reached out, her finger caressing Finlay’s cheek. “He’s even bigger than he was three weeks ago.”

“Yeah. Um, what are you guys doing here?”

“Brian said we could stay,” she replied, as the man in question came downstairs dressed in a pair of tight button-fly jeans and a black tee shirt.

“Papa!” Finlay began wiggling, then looked at Justin. “Down!”

“Okay, okay, hang on.” He grinned as he set the boy on his feet, waiting until Brian was close by and Finlay was steady on his feet before letting go of his hands and letting him take four rocky steps. Brian caught him and swung him into the air, finally settling him against his chest.

“Did you have fun shopping with Daddy and Daphne?” Brian asked the little boy.

“Neenee!”

“Neenee, huh? I bet she loves that name.”

“Yeah, especially when he kept screaming it over and over again. She’s looking forward to when he can pronounce her name. Though I get the feeling he’s going to call her that for a long time.” He looked past Brian for a moment to his mother. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hello.”

“Hey, Molly, you wanna play with Fin for a little while?” Justin asked, grabbing some toys from the diaper bag and setting them on the floor. Then he picked up Finlay and set him on the floor. The boy immediately latched onto his red ball. “We’ll be right back. You want anything to drink, Mol?”

“Um, soda please, if you have it.”

“Sure. Mom?”

“Just a glass of water, please.”

“Okay.” He nodded, then slipped his hand into Brian’s and led him into the kitchen. Once inside, he pressed himself against the taller man, capturing his lips in a long, breath-taking kiss. “Mm, I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

“It was definitely worth the wait,” Brian replied, slipping his hands under the younger man’s tee shirt, his fingers exploring the smooth skin of his back. 

“So what’s my mom doing here?” Justin wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist and laid his head against the taller man’s shoulder.

“She came by my office. Apparently she’s left your father. She said that by the time she got here he’d managed to freeze all of their joint accounts. God only knows why she doesn’t have any accounts of her own.”

“He wouldn’t let her, told her that since she didn’t work she couldn’t have her own account.”

“Of course, should have guessed. Anyway, she said she has enough left on her credit card to get them flights back to Chicago, but not enough for a hotel. We can put them up in a hotel for a few days, if you want, but I figured at least if they stayed here for one night, then you could spend time with Molly and she could get to know Finlay. Plus, I know you love your mom, even if the two of you don’t really like each other right now.”

“Thank you.” Justin leaned back and slid his hands up Brian’s back, until his fingers found their way into the older man’s spiky chestnut hair. He gently licked Brian’s lips, then let his tongue delve inside.

“Papa!”

“I’m _so_ sorry!” Molly exclaimed, as the two men parted.

“It’s okay, Molly, don’t worry about it,” Justin replied with a laugh as he released Brian after one final quick kiss.

“Dink!”

“That means he’s thirsty, doesn’t it?” Molly asked as she held Finlay’s hands in hers so he wouldn’t fall.

“Yeah.” Justin opened the fridge and removed a bottle of juice. He removed the cap and handed the bottle to his son, who immediately popped it into his mouth. “What kind of soda do you want, Molly, Pepsi or Mountain Dew?”

“Pepsi, please.” She tilted her head up and studied Brian for a moment. “Do you guys kiss a lot?”

“Hm, depends on what you consider a lot.” Brian opened the drawer containing the takeout menus and began digging through them. “Chinese or Italian?”

“Italian.”

“But it has so many carbs.”

“Suffer, old man. You’ll just have to spend an extra half hour on the treadmill,” Justin replied. He lightly patted Brian’s flat stomach, then handed his sister her soda.

“Like, is it more than five times?”

“An hour or a day?” Brian asked, passing the menu to Justin. “You’re placing the order, then.” Stepping forward, he gathered Finlay in his arms, holding him so that Finlay had his back against his chest, allowing the little boy to look around.

“A day.”

“Definitely more than five times a day. Especially on weekends.”

“Pizza okay, Mol?”

“Sure.”

“Get me a salad, okay?” Brian asked.

“Of course.”

“Did you always wanna kiss boys?” Molly pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down while Justin wandered into the dining room, cell phone in hand, to place their order. 

“Yeah.”

“Like, even when you were my age?”

“I didn’t really want to kiss anyone when I was your age,” Brian replied with a smirk.

“What about girls? Have you ever kissed a girl?”

“Uh huh.”

“And you didn’t like it?”

“It wasn’t terrible. I just knew that it wasn’t right for me.”

“How did you know?”

“Now, that’s a hard one to explain,” he replied, reminding himself that he was speaking to a ten-year-old girl. “I guess it’s just a matter of knowing what you like and what you don’t. I just liked kissing boys a lot more than I liked kissing girls.”

“Oh. Okay.” She studied him again for a moment. “Mom’s probably wondering what happened to all of us.”

“True. You wanna grab a bottle of water for her?”

“Sure.”

“The pizza will be here in half an hour,” Justin announced as he returned to the kitchen. “And yes, before you ask, I remembered your salad.” He slipped his phone into his pocket, then pressed a quick kiss to Brian’s lips. “Come on, we can’t hide in the kitchen forever.”

“Who said anything about hiding?”

“I can read you like a book, Kinney.”

“Fuck you, Taylor,” Brian replied with a laugh. “You’re the one who dragged me in here, if you’ll remember.”

“Promises, promises,” he replied quietly, as Molly left the kitchen. “Come on, time to deal with my mother.” He brushed Finlay’s hair from his forehead and placed a light kiss on his smooth skin.

 

After dinner, during which they made small talk, glad to let Molly control most of the conversation, Brian took Finlay upstairs for his bath, Molly trailing behind, anxious to spend time with her nephew.

“So . . . wanna tell me what happened?” Justin asked quietly, settling into the chair opposite his mother in the living room. “I mean, I understand you not wanting to talk about it in front of Molly . . .”

“I don’t want to talk about it at all.” She began twisting her wedding ring around her finger, a nervous habit she had had for as long as Justin could remember. Tilting her head back, she tried to keep the tears from spilling from her eyes. “He’s been having an affair.”

“Well, that’s nothing new. He’s been doing that for years.”

“But it was never anything serious. It was just one here and another there. This time . . . he’s been seeing Angela Jackson’s daughter for two years. The girl is twenty years old!” She brushed the tears from her cheeks. “He’s given me until the end of the week to go back to Chicago. Hopefully we can get things settled quickly, though I somehow doubt it.”

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really had much time to process all of this. I just grabbed Molly and a few of our things and came here. I know . . . I know things are rocky between us, but I just didn’t know where else to go.”

“Yeah, I know, Brian explained it to me earlier. And we’re okay with you staying for a few days. I miss seeing Molly and it’ll be good for her to spend time with Finlay. It’s just going to take me a while to trust you. Too much has happened.”

“Justin, Justin, Finlay peed in his bath water!” Molly exclaimed as she ran down the stairs. “Brian said it was lucky he was facing away from us when he did it or we would’ve been squirted!”

“Yeah, that happens sometimes,” he replied with a laugh, noticing the ghost of a smile that flitted across his mother’s face. “So, how are you liking your nephew?”

“He’s cute. But he doesn’t really do much.”

“Give him another year.”

 

“How come Finlay calls Brian ‘Papa?’” Molly asked quietly as Justin sat on the edge of her bed. “I mean, Brian’s not really his daddy.”

“That depends on how you define the word.” He gazed out the window for a moment, then looked back to his sister. “You know how your friend Samantha is adopted?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, her parents aren’t related to her by blood, but they’re still her parents. They love her just as much as if she were biologically theirs. They protect her and they take care of her, and they want the best for her that life has to offer.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s sort of the same with Brian and Finlay. He doesn’t love him any less than if Finlay were biologically his.”

“Is it because Finlay’s yours?”

“I’m sure that has a small part to do with it.”

“What about his baby? He said he has a baby, too.”

“Yeah, he does. Gus. He’s almost four months old.”

“Doesn’t he love Gus more?”

“No, I don’t think so, I think he loves them equally. Either way, it’s not a competition. They’ll grow up, more or less, as brothers.”

“So Brian adopted Finlay? Just like Samantha’s parents adopted her? But if he’s adopted Finlay, then what happens to you? Are you still Finlay’s daddy?” she asked, her eyes growing wide with worry.

“I’ll always be Finlay’s daddy, no matter what. And Brian will always be his papa. And if the time ever comes that Brian adopts Finlay, the only difference it’ll make in our family is that Brian will also be his legal parent. We’ve already got everything else we could possibly need.” He reached forward and pushed her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to worry, okay? About anything. It’ll work out, even this mess with Mom and Dad. Somehow it’ll work out. Now get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.” He reached over and flipped off the lamp on the nightstand while wishing he could do more to help his sister than just offer a few reassuring words.

 

Justin peered at the amber liquid in the glass he held. He rarely drank but, at times, when he couldn’t stop his mind from running on overdrive, a little brandy seemed to calm him down. Downing the last of the noxious drink, he set the glass on the coffee table, then stood and wandered over to the large windows on the opposite wall, pressing his forehead against the cool glass.

It wasn’t as though his conversation with Molly had brought about any new revelations. So why was he suddenly running their conversation over and over again in his mind? He turned his head, letting his cheek press against the cool glass, then opened his eyes just enough that he could see the foggy spot his breath made on the glass. 

He heard Brian open the door at the top of the stairs, quickly followed by his footsteps as he descended them. Opening his eyes further, he saw Brian’s reflection in the window as he stepped behind him, clad only in dark blue silk pajama pants.

“Hey. You okay?” the taller man asked, his voice gravelly from sleep.

“Yeah. Just . . . thinking.”

“You don’t usually end up sleepless from thinking.”

“I know.” He turned around, pressing his back against the glass, enjoying the way the cold seeped into his bare skin. 

“So what are you thinking about?” Brian reached forward and pushed away the locks of blonde hair that had managed to fall into Justin’s eyes.

“You.”

“Hm . . . what’d I do?”

“Nothing.” Justin offered his partner a small smile, then leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his waist, enjoying the feel of skin against skin. “Just something Molly asked about that I’d already been thinking about.”

“Feel like sharing?”

“It’s just . . . I want to ask you, but it almost feels like it’s too soon, but we’ve done everything else in our relationship pretty quickly. And if you say no, then I don’t want to get upset, because I know it won’t really mean what I’ll probably convince myself it means.”

“Well, you won’t know unless you ask.”

“I just . . . I don’t even know how to ask you.”

“Come here.” He threaded his fingers through Justin’s and led him over to the sofa. He settled against the joint of the high back and arm of the large leather and oak sofa, then pulled Justin down so that he was lying against him, chest to chest. He ran his fingers lightly over Justin’s back, gently kneading out the tension he felt there. “If it’s keeping you awake, it must be serious. Just tell me in your own time.”

Justin lay there for what seemed like ages, listening to the steady beat of Brian’s heart, enjoying the way the man’s long, slender fingers played over his skin. In the back of his mind he couldn’t help thinking that it shouldn’t be so hard to just get it out in the open. To ask the question. But it wasn’t so much the question that was hard to ask, it was the possible answers that would be hard to hear. Still, he hadn’t gotten to this point in his young life by being afraid to go after what he wanted.

“Would you ever consider adopting Finlay?” The words came out softly, barely more than a whisper, and for a moment Brian wasn’t sure if he had heard his young lover correctly. “I mean, you’ve never asked about it.”

“I could never ask that of you. It’s just . . . too much for me to ask for. Not too much to want, but too much to ask you to give,” Brian replied softly, his fingers making their way into Justin’s hair. “I would love to adopt Finlay, but only if you want that, too. I don’t want you to feel obligated to because we’re together, or because you think he should have two parents. If you decide that you want me to be his legal father as well, I want it to be because you can’t imagine anyone else in that role.”

“Do you mean it?” Justin raised his head and focused on the shiny hazel eyes of his partner.

“I rarely say things I don’t mean. You know that.” He pulled Justin close for a kiss, letting his tongue trace the confines of the younger man’s mouth before pulling away and smiling. “So when do you want to do this?”

“Um, God, I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you really want to adopt him. For some reason I was terrified that you wouldn’t want to.”

“Well, no need to worry your pretty little blonde head. Is tomorrow too early to call your lawyer and get the papers drawn up?”

“I’ll call first thing,” he replied, his sunshine smile nearly blinding the older man at that moment. Justin leaned forward and began peppering Brian’s neck with feather-light kisses as Brian tugged the younger man’s sweats down, using his feet to pull them off completely. As Justin worked his way down Brian’s body, he slipped his hands into the waistband of his silk pajama pants. He pulled the pants off, then attacked the sensitive skin on the man’s inner thigh.

 

It had always been one of her guilty pleasures when her children were young, watching them sleep. This was especially true of Justin, with his pale skin and hair that had been platinum until adolescence. So it didn’t really surprise Jennifer when, upon waking at a little after 3 a.m., she found herself ascending the stairs to the second level of her son’s home with every intention of watching her grandson sleep.

Yet as she neared the top of the stairs she heard quiet sounds coming from the family room that stopped her in her tracks. She could just barely see into the room, yet she could make out the forms of her son and his lover outlined in the moonlight that shone through the large windows, Justin lying on the sofa, his legs wrapped around Brian’s waist as the taller man rocked against him.

“Mm, Bri.”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.”

“Do that . . . do that again.”

Jennifer’s eyes widened as she pressed her hand over her mouth. Of course, she’d known they were lovers, had known, really, from the moment she had first laid eyes upon Brian in the hospital, but on some level she was convinced that Brian was only with her son because he was young, handsome, and from a wealthy family. She had never really considered, well, not until today, that he might actually _love_ Justin.

“Oh God!” Brian groaned a moment later.

“Fuck! Mm, stay there,” Justin murmured, his hands reaching down to grasp Brian’s hips. His legs dropped back to the sofa as Brian collapsed on top of him. “Don’t leave yet. Feels too good.” He wove his fingers through Brian’s hair and tilted his head back, then licked his own lips before devouring his lover’s.

Turning, unable to stop the tears that formed in her eyes, and unsure if they came from the beauty of the love she had witnessed between her son and his partner or the knowledge that, even though she had rarely seen him in the past year and a half, her son was, without a doubt, no longer hers, Jennifer made her way down the stairs she had just climbed and returned to her room.

 

“Where’s Brian?” Molly asked as she watched Finlay attempt to feed himself some mashed bananas.

“Still getting dressed. He tends to take a while.”

“He’s a handsome man, though, so I’m sure it pays off,” Jennifer replied with a slight smile.

“Yeah, it does. Plus, he’s got meetings all day today. He’s extra-fussy when he has a lot of meetings.”

“You, on the other hand, dress like a twelve-year-old,” Brian chided, as he stepped into the kitchen and swiped the cup of coffee Justin was holding.

“Hey, that’s mine.”

“Gotta learn to share, Blondie.” He took a sip, then handed it back, kissing the younger man as he did so.

“I don’t dress like a twelve-year-old.”

“My friend Billy has a shirt almost like that one,” Molly pointed out.

“Fuck it. Fine, gang up on me,” Justin groused as Brian snickered.

“Gangs, you say?”

“Shut up.” He poked Brian in the ribs, but only managed to get one jab in before the taller man stepped out of the way. “You want anything to eat?”

“No thanks, I have a meeting over brunch anyway. Oh, I meant to ask your opinion on something.” He set down his briefcase, then popped it open and pulled out the boards he had brought home. “There’s something wrong with these, but I can’t figure out what it is. I just thought maybe you’d have an idea.” He quickly spread them out over the remainder of the kitchen counter.

“Hm, keeping in mind that you’re the expert in all things advertising . . . I’d say it’s the font. It’s too . . . elegant. The product is simple, the slogan is simple . . . it just doesn’t mesh with the font.” He watched for a moment as Brian’s eyes flitted over the boards, then a slow smile came to his face.

“You are a fucking genius! I knew it had something to do with the font, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.” He pecked Justin on the lips again, then packed up the boards. “Sometime during the next four years I’m going to convince you that you have to come work for me. Fuck . . . I’ll start you out as the head of the art department.”

“Uh huh. Somehow I don’t think Marty’ll go for that.”

“Hm, he’ll have retired down to sunny Boca Raton by then, anyway, and it’ll be all mine to do with as I wish.”

“Of course.”

“Papa!”

Brian turned and looked at Finlay, his eyes drifting over the food that had ended up on his shirt rather than in his mouth. “You, kid, are a mess.” He held his tie in place, then leaned over and kissed the little boy’s forehead. “So you’re calling your lawyer today, right?” His words were spoken quietly, as the two men had agreed to wait until the adoption was finalized before telling anyone, lest it not go through.

“Uh huh.” Justin stepped forward, grasping Brian’s tie and wrapping it around his hand as he pulled the man closer. “I’ll have him call your office and set up a time, hopefully in the next couple of days. That way, if luck is on our side, it’ll all be taken care of by Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to us,” Brian whispered, as Justin pulled him close for one last kiss.

 

Jennifer stood watching Justin as he set Finlay in the couple of inches of bath water he had drawn in an attempt to clean the mashed bananas and oatmeal off the little boy. He had been hoping to avoid having to give him a bath, but the little boy had gone all out and managed to get the food in his hair as well.

“Da! Bo!”

“You want your boat?”

“Bo!” As Justin handed him the toy, Finlay smiled in an exact replica of his father’s sunshine smile. “Tank oo.”

“You’re welcome.” He reached for the bottle of baby wash and squirted some into his hands, then set to work removing the stickiness of the food from his son’s skin.

“You’re good at this,” Jennifer said quietly. “You were always a handful at bath time.”

“Yeah?”

“You liked to splash around a lot. I’d always end up drenched.” She smiled, then moved to the closed toilet seat and sat down to watch her son and grandson.

“He hasn’t gotten to that stage yet. Of course, I try to keep things on hand that’ll hold his interest until we’re done.” He scooped some water into his hand and began rinsing the baby wash from Finlay’s back. “I’m sure by this time next year I’ll have run out of tricks to keep him calm. I’ll let Brian take over his baths. Let his Prada get soaked. Might finally convince him to stop wearing the stuff around the house.” He grinned at Finlay as the little boy pressed his lips together, then blew through them to make a propeller noise as he pushed the boat around in front of himself. “Okay, kid, let’s dock the boat for a second, okay?” He gently pried the boat from Finlay’s hand and set it just out of reach on the ledge of the tub. 

“No! Bo!”

“After we wash your hair.”

“Da!”

“In a minute, Fin, okay?” He squirted some baby shampoo into his hands, then worked it into a slight lather before applying it to his son’s damp hair. With one hand he washed the baby’s hair and with the other he lightly ticked him under his arm in an attempt to ward of a crying fit over his momentary loss of the boat. 

“Brian seems really good with him.”

“Hm? Yeah, he is. He didn’t think he would be, but he’s great.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Oh, um . . . he didn’t have very good examples growing up.”

“Well,” she said quietly, “neither did you.”

“Maybe.” He finished washing Finlay’s hair and promptly handed the boat back to him. “But you can’t really compare our childhoods. Trust me, his was a lot worse.” He ran his fingers through his son’s damp hair. “I just wish you could have been there for me, you know? The last thing I ever expected to become was a father, and especially not when I was seventeen.”

“Da!”

“Yes?”

“No bo,” Finlay said quietly, his lower lip forming a pout as he handed the boat to his father. 

“Are you done with the boat?” At the child’s nod, he continued, “Okay, time to get you out of the tub, then.” He pulled the plug on the tub, then stood Finlay up and took the small towel his mother held out to him.

“Papa?”

“Papa’s at work. Making money so he can spoil you with more boats.”

“Bo’s?”

“Uh huh.” He dried Finlay, then wrapped the towel around him and lifted him out of the tub. “Let’s get your diaper on, huh?” He carried the little boy into his bedroom.

“So, um . . . if you don’t mind my asking . . . how long has he been calling Brian that?” Jennifer asked as he set Finlay on his changing table, then opened a diaper and slid it under him. 

“Hm, about a month.”

“I don’t think I could stand if it you or Molly called another woman ‘mom.’” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the crib, watching Justin as he taped the diaper shut.

“It’s not the same situation,” he replied. He reached for the lotion on the stand beside the changing table and squirted a little into his hands. He rubbed his hands together, warming the lotion, then began rubbing it on Finlay’s legs and feet, delighting in his son’s laughter when he lightly tickled his feet. “Brian and I aren’t in competition for that title.”

“But . . . won’t this all be confusing for Finlay? Having two fathers, who live together?”

“No.” He rubbed some lotion on the boy’s stomach and chest. “Things are changing. Not as quickly as I would like, unfortunately, but there’s more acceptance of different family situations.” He wiped his hands on the discarded towel, then reached for a tiny pair of jeans. He made quick work of dressing Finlay in the jeans and a blue shirt, then added a pair of white socks before setting the boy on the floor and handing him a ball to play with. “I know it’s not going to be easy for him, that he might get teased because of me and Brian. I know that. And I don’t like it. I don’t want him going through that. But I can’t stop every hurtful word that gets aimed at him. All I can do is teach him that people who make those comments don’t know what they’re talking about. And that he can always come to us, that we’ll love him no matter what. That’s all we can do.”


	10. Clarity

Justin hitched Finlay against his side, his arms tightening around the boy as he made his way through the lunch crowd at the diner. He stood by the counter and looked around until he spotted a familiar orange jacket. Picking up speed once again, he made his way to the back of the diner.

“Hey, Em.”

“Justin, hi! What are you doing here?”

“Getting lunch and waiting for Brian.” He slid the diaper bag from his shoulder and tossed it onto the bench seat. Then he stood Finlay on the seat and removed the little boy’s blue coat.

“God, he just gets bigger and bigger every time I see him.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of amazing how quickly it all happens.” He dropped the coat atop the bag, then picked Finlay up and stood him on the floor for a moment while he removed his own coat and added it to the pile. Then he picked Finlay up and sat down, positioning the boy on his lap so that he could look around. “One minute they’re so small you could almost pick them up with one hand, then in a blink of an eye, they’re beginning to walk and talk.”

“I can’t even imagine,” the older man said quietly, a hint of sadness overtaking his usually cheerful disposition as he gazed at the little boy on the opposite side of the table.

“Don’t give up, okay, Em? It can still happen for you.” He tilted his head to one side, then smiled slightly at his friend. “Besides, something tells me you need a couple more years to chase the boys around Babylon. And I know you like the chase, so enjoy it. And while you’re doing that, you can still be Finlay’s Uncle Emmett. Get some practice under your belt before you’re thrown to the wolves.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Justin replied quietly, as Deb set Emmett’s lunch in front of him. After Deb took his order, Justin pulled the diaper bag from under the coats and retrieved Finlay’s bottle of milk.

“Da?”

“Yes?” He popped the cap off the bottle, then handed it to his son.

“Papa?”

“He’ll be here in a little while.” Justin smoothed Finlay’s hair as the little boy popped the bottle into his mouth and leaned back against his father’s chest, his eyes nearly closed as he began sucking contentedly on the bottle.

“Did he just . . . he didn’t!” He set down his fork, his eyes wide as he stared at Justin and Finlay. “Brian must have died!”

“Hm, last time I checked he was still very much alive.”

“I’ll bet.” Emmett glanced around, then lowered his voice and leaned forward conspiratorially. “So, how much time do the two of you spend fucking?” He watched as Justin laughed quietly, then shook his head. 

 

Justin glanced at the clock over the counter. Brian was meeting him in twenty minutes. Emmett had just gone back to Torso, his lunch break having ended, and Finlay was asleep in his arms, having drifted off shortly after finishing his bottle. His right arm was starting to ache a little, so he shifted Finlay so that he rested more against his chest and left arm. No matter how long he held the boy, no matter how much it made his arms ache, he would hold Finlay for as long as possible.

He closed his eyes and turned his head slightly, lightly resting his cheek against his son’s soft hair. How many more years could he do this, cradle his son in this way? How many more years would Finlay let him hold him at all? Justin was determined to enjoy it while he could because he knew that before long the boy would be a teenager who would probably cringe at the idea of receiving so much as a hug from his father.

“Justin?”

“Hm?” Opening his eyes, he found Deb standing before him. She had removed her apron and held it, balled up, in her hands.

“I was wondering if we could talk.”

“Just . . . try not to wake him up, okay?”

“Sure.” She slid into the seat across from him, her eyes roaming over Finlay. “He’s gorgeous. I don’t think I ever told you that.”

“Thanks.” He studied her warily for a moment. “So what’s going on?”

“I just wanted to talk about what happened at Thanksgiving.”

“That was three weeks ago, Deb.”

“I know. But I really wish you and Brian had come.”

“But do you understand why we didn’t?” He brushed Finlay’s hair away from his forehead as the little boy wiggled against him in an effort to find a more comfortable position. “Brian wanted to go. I’ll admit that. I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because the only people that really make me feel welcome in your family are Emmett and Vic. Mel, too, I guess. And that’s it. I didn’t want Thanksgiving to turn out like every other dinner that I’ve attended at your place. It was our first holiday as a family, and I wanted to enjoy it.”

“I never meant to make you feel unwelcome.” She twisted the apron around her hand and looked down at the top of the table.

“Yes you did.” Her eyes met his, and he held her gaze, refusing to look away. “You don’t want Brian with me. I know that. You’ve as much as admitted it. When you came to my home and said that Michael’s put in more time, that he’s the one Brian should be with . . . that was a direct slap in the face. And it was an assault on my family.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How else could you have meant it? You think Brian’s still fucking other people and you think I’ll leave him for someone younger. What is that if not an attack on my relationship?” Finlay shifted some more, so Justin began to rub soothing circles on the little boy’s back. “Brian loves you, you know that. And he loves Michael, too, but just as a friend. Why is it so unbelievable to the two of you that he would want to be with me?”

“It’s not unbelievable.” She tapped her long painted nails on the table and gazed toward the counter for a moment before turning back to Justin. “It’s just . . . Brian’s had a hard life. His childhood was a mess. Michael and I were there for him during all of it. And, I’m sorry, Sunshine, but I don’t think you have a fucking clue about any of it. From where I’m sitting, you’ve had it pretty easy in life.”

“You don’t know anything about what my life has been like.”

“It sure hasn’t been like Brian’s. And, for being a single parent, and a teenage one at that, you’ve had it pretty good.”

“As opposed to what? Your experience? Let me explain something, Debbie. I’m not you. I don’t want to _be_ you. Am I supposed to apologize for how I lead my life, how I care for my son? Or for the fact that I don’t have to work all the time to support him?”

“Brian is the one supporting him!”

“Who do you think supported him before Brian came along? Because we haven’t been together that long. Mommy and Daddy? That’s what you think, isn’t it? You think I’m some spoiled brat who’s living off his parents’ dime.” He took a deep breath as he fought to maintain control over his emotions. “Let me set the record straight. And you can tell everyone else. Brian does not financially support me or Finlay. We renovated the loft together. We both paid for that. We pay our bills together. We share all the other expenses that we have. The only reason I can afford to do so is because of the way in which my wife died. Because I reached a settlement with the company that fucked up the brakes on her car. That is the only reason. So if anyone has been supporting Finlay and myself, it would be Finlay’s mother.”

“Oh, Sunshine,” Deb whispered.

“Don’t. Don’t try acting like my sharing this information with you changes anything. It doesn’t. None of it was any of your business. You need to learn to stay out of Brian’s and my relationship. Because as much as you love him, and as much as he loves you, he’ll choose me and Finlay.”

“And you’d ask that of him?”

“No. I just know that’s what his decision would be. I’m still willing to give everyone another chance. But only because that’s what Brian wants.”

“So you just want me to butt out?”

“Pretty much. Let him be happy. That’s what you’ve always wanted for him, isn’t it?” Justin asked as Brian stepped into the diner.

 

The last time Justin had been in Steve Jamison’s office was the day, just a week before his attack, that he had reviewed the finalized paperwork giving Brian temporary custody of Finlay. Finlay had been at daycare, he and Brian had stopped seeing each other, and he’d sat in the office alone.

“So, Justin, you’re sure you want to do this? Because there’s no changing it once you do,” Steve asked, snapping Justin out of his reverie.

“Yeah.” He glanced over at Brian as the older man lightly bounced Finlay on his lap and smiled. “I’m sure.”

 

Justin rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. The blue lights over the bed cast an almost magical hue on Brian’s lightly tanned skin and he couldn’t help reaching forward and running his fingers along Brian’s bony ribcage.

“What?” the older man asked quietly, his hazel eyes opening and finding Justin’s slightly confused stare looking back at him. “You’re thinking about something. Out with it.”

“I’m thinking . . . that you’re beautiful under these lights.”

“I’m beautiful all the time.”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward and kissed Brian, letting his tongue lightly graze the older man’s teeth before leaning back once again.

“But that’s not all you were thinking. Have you . . . you haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“No! Of course not.” He slid across the few inches of exposed sheet and wrapped his left arm around Brian’s waist. He let his cheek rest against the other man’s chest, allowing the beat of his heart to calm him. “I think we need to tell Mel and Lindz first. We owe them that much.” 

“Yeah, we do,” he heard Brian whisper, as the older man’s slender fingers began to play over the smooth skin of his back. 

 

Brian leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as Justin fussed with the coffee he was making. It didn’t really surprise him that Justin had taken over so many of the household duties, doing the laundry, the tidying up . . . it made sense, with Brian being at work all day and Justin at home caring for Finlay on the days he didn’t have to attend either of his therapy sessions.

“You want some help?”

“Hm?” Justin looked up from the coffee pot as he poured water into it. “No, I’ve got it.”

“It’s just . . . I don’t want you to feel like I expect you to do all of this.”

“All of what?”

“Stop being obtuse. The cooking and cleaning . . . the ‘wifely’ duties, or whateverthefuck. Cause you’re not my wife and I don’t expect you to do everything around here.”

“Well, Mr. Kinney, I don’t _expect_ to do everything.” The younger man looked up at Brian and grinned. “Once the holidays have passed I’m going to see about getting my job back. Or at least _a_ job, because as much as I love Finlay, I can’t spend twenty four-seven with him without going insane. And, when I was talking to Deb yesterday, I just . . . started thinking. It’s always been my intention to save as much of the settlement money for Finlay as possible, so that he can do whatever he wants. Within reason, of course. Harvard, yes. Maserati, no.”

“Corvette?”

“Hm, no.”

“But then we could borrow it.”

“I’ll buy you one when you turn fifty, old man.”

“Fair enough. When I’m fifty I’ll be expecting you to keep me in the style to which I’ve grown accustomed.” 

“Of course. Anyway, _as I was saying,_ despite Ted’s constant declarations, I have no intentions of being the little wife—.”

“Thank fucking God!”

“—so once everything gets back to normal, or as close to it as we can manage, with both of us working, we’ll share the responsibilities.”

“Or we could hire someone to clean the house for us. That’s what I used to do with the loft.”

“We’re not hiring a cleaning lady.”

“Why?” Brian crossed his arms over his chest and peered into the upturned face of his partner.

“Because it’s a waste of money. When we both have good jobs, when you’re the sole owner of the company, and I’m an amazingly successful artist, then we can talk about it. Deal?”

“Yeah,” Brian replied with mock sadness as Justin slipped his arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“My bargain’s not the only thing that’s hard.”

“Obviously.” He twisted his fingers in Justin’s hair and pulled the younger man close for another kiss as the doorbell sounded. Groaning, Brian leaned back and smiled slightly. “I’ll get it. You finish the coffee.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Fuck you.”

“I certainly hope so,” Justin replied, Brian’s chuckle echoing down the hall. As Brian let their guests into their home, Justin could hear their quiet voices drifting toward the kitchen. He quickly poured the coffee into mugs, then loaded them onto a tray and carried them into the living room. He found Mel and Lindz sitting on the sofa, while Brian sat in the plush leather chair across from them, Gus cradled in his arms.

“Hi, Justin. I hope you don’t mind us bringing Gus along,” Mel remarked with a smile.

“No, of course not.” He set the tray on the coffee table. “I don’t really know what everyone takes in their coffee, so help yourselves.”

“So what’s going on?” Mel asked, adding a small amount of sugar and milk to one mug, then handing it to Lindsay. “It sounded important.”

“It’s not an emergency or anything,” Justin said quickly. “I hope we didn’t make you think that it was.” He perched on the arm of the chair Brian was sitting in, his fingers finding their way into the short hair at the nape of Brian’s neck. The older man ever so slightly leaned into his caress.

“Then what did you want to tell us?” Lindsay began twisting her gold band around her left ring finger. Justin couldn’t help but notice the similarity to his interaction with his own wedding band at one point in the not so distant past.

“Okay,” Brian said with a sigh. “I’m not sure how exactly to say this, so I’m just gonna say it. Justin and I went to see his lawyer yesterday to finalize my second-parent adoption of Finlay.” He shifted Gus so that the little boy was resting against his chest, then looked closely at the two women sitting across from him.

“Seriously?” Mel looked from Brian to Justin, her eyes wide as she regarded the younger man.

“Yeah. If all goes well, and Steve’s pretty sure it will, then it’ll be official by Friday.” Justin smiled at the two women, then reached down and let Gus grab his finger. “We thought the two of you should be the first to know.” 

“Brian, um . . . are you sure? It’s a big responsibility, being a parent. And, please excuse me if I’m out of line here, but isn’t this a little sudden?” Lindsay pressed her palms together, weaving her fingers until her hand formed a knot and her knuckles drained of any and all color.

“It’s what we want.” Gus began to fidget, so Brian stood and handed him to Mel. “We know everyone’s going to think it’s too soon. We talked about it and, honestly, it doesn’t matter to us what everyone else thinks.” He studied Lindsay for a moment. The shock of the situation was still apparent on her face. “Are you gonna be okay, Lindz?”

“Hm? Yeah. It’s just. . . .”

“I think we’re just a little surprised. We just didn’t expect this,” Mel replied, with a slight smile. “But I’m happy for you guys. Honestly, Brian, I never ever thought we’d have so much in common.”

“Yeah, imagine that. And the world hasn’t spun off its axis,” he replied, as a small cry was heard through the baby monitor.

“I’ll get him.” Justin let his hand drift across Brian’s back as he left to get his son.

“Brian, are you really sure about this?” Lindsay asked quietly once Justin had disappeared upstairs.

“You’ll always be a part of my family, Lindz, and so will Gus. But I want my own family, a partner and kid that I can come home to. I really don’t understand why everyone finds that so hard to believe.”

“Because you’ve always been the ‘uncaring asshole’ in the family. At least, that’s how it’s always seemed. And Brian, you can’t really deny your loud protestations against anything even remotely resembling the typical family-life. But I’m starting to think you were only doing that because it’s what Michael and Deb, fuck, even I, expected of you.” Mel gently rocked Gus as he slept. “So that’s your big secret. You’re not really an asshole.”

“Yeah I am.” He tilted his head and offered her a small smile. “But only to those who deserve it.” Hearing Justin’s sneakers on the stairs, Brian turned and watched as he carried a sniffling Finlay over to him.

“His tooth’s bothering him again,” the younger man said quietly, depositing the child in Brian’s arms. “I’ll go get his ring.”

“Hey, buddy.” He smiled as Finlay looked up at him for a moment before the little boy balled up his shirt in his little fists and buried his tear-stained face against Brian’s chest.

“So, Brian,” Lindsay asked quietly, as Justin stepped back into the room and handed the grateful little boy his teething ring, “is he going to have your last name, too?”

“Um, sort of. It’s going to be his second middle name. Just makes sense to do it that way.”

“His middle name right now is Sullivan. That was his mother’s maiden name. This way he gets all of our names without having hyphens everywhere.” Justin reached over and lightly ruffled his son’s hair.

“Anyway, ‘Kinney’ just wouldn’t go with his name.”

“Why not?” Lindsay looked at him questioningly.

“Because it would practically rhyme,” the brunette man replied. “Fags have more taste than to give their kids rhyming names.” He rubbed the little boy’s back and grinned when Finlay looked up at him, pulled the teething ring from his mouth, and held it out to his papa.

 

Justin groaned and tilted his head back, his eyes sliding shut, obscuring the blue of the overheard lights. He slid his fingers into Brian’s hair and arched from the bed. It was already perfect, he thought. It could never get better. Never ever.

“Never ever what?” Brian asked, sliding up Justin’s torso and plundering his mouth, letting the younger man taste himself.

“Hm?”

“You were thinking out loud again.”

“Mm yeah. Sorry.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Brian’s collarbone, letting his tongue run over the other man’s salty skin.

“Never be sorry,” he replied as Justin rolled him onto his back and began trailing kisses down his chest. 

 

 

Brian sat in the living room, his feet propped on the coffee table, as he scanned the business section of the Sunday paper. For a moment he peered over the top of the paper, taking note of Justin as the younger man sat on the floor playing with their son. Six months ago he would have balked at the idea of spending the entire weekend at home. He had gone from one extreme to another, seemingly overnight, from spending his nights and weekends among friends and nameless fucks, to spending his spare time at home with his family. Sometimes he barely recognized the person he used to be—the person others believed he still was.

“Would you care if I spent a couple hours with Mikey tonight?” He knew he hadn’t spent nearly enough time with the man in recent days. That was mainly Michael’s own doing, but it was impossible for Brian to even consider throwing away nearly sixteen years of friendship.

“No, of course not.” Justin stood and made his way over to the sofa, sinking into its leather lushness. “I know you miss spending time with him.” He cocked his head to one side and grinned slightly. “Maybe I’ll give Daph a call and see if she wants to come over. Watch some porn. Snort some coke.”

“Just don’t fuck her. We can’t handle another kid right now.”

“Asshole.” He poked Brian in the ribs, then let his fingers drift toward the older man’s most ticklish spots.

 

The acrid smell of smoke hung heavily in the air, searing Brian’s nostrils as he stepped into Woody’s. While he hadn’t totally given up smoking, now that most of his free time was spent around Finlay he had cut back drastically. That it was winter, and he could no longer smoke inside, only conspired against his decade-old habit, for he had no desire to freeze his balls off in the quest for nicotine.

He immediately spotted Michael sitting at the bar, a beer before him and his elbows propped on the polished surface. Brian slid onto the stool beside his friend and ordered a shot of Beam and a Heinekin. 

“I was surprised you called,” the shorter man said quietly, turning his head and looking at Brian as he downed his shot. 

“You’re still my friend, Mikey.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Well, you are. I’m not willing to throw fifteen years worth of friendship down the drain.”

“What about Justin?” He said the other man’s name as thought it was distasteful.

“What about him? He’s not trying to get in the way of our friendship. But he feels like you’re putting him there. And that, by doing that, I’m getting stuck in the middle. Believe it or not, Mikey, all he wants is for me to be happy. And he knows that you’re a big part of my life and he doesn’t begrudge us our friendship.” He studied his friend for a moment. “He’s willing to put an end to this feud between the two of you if you are.”

Michael stared at his beer bottle for a moment, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of Brian’s proposed idea. “I’ll try,” he said quietly, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, “but I can’t make any promises.”

“That’s all we’re asking.” Brian set down his beer, letting his fingers roam over the bracelet he wore. “Okay, enough of this shit. Back to the usual topics we discuss when we hang out. Now,” he turned around and surveyed the crowd, “who do you think has the best ass?” After all, he wasn’t dead—he could look even if he couldn’t touch.

 

On the second floor of their home, where the kitchen and dining room had once been, there now existed Brian’s office and Justin’s studio. It was one large open room, with Brian’s desk and computer at one end and Justin’s easel and supplies at the other. There were two black-lacquered screens that could be put up to divide the room if both required use of it at the same time but, more often than not, they worked in silence, and left the screens in the closet.

He stared at the large canvas propped on his easel. Then he grinned and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. He sunk onto the leather sofa against the wall behind himself, and dialed Mel and Lindsay’s number.

 

 

Justin held open the front door and ushered Lindsay and Gus inside. Both of their hat-covered heads were dotted with quickly-melting snowflakes.

“Hi. I hope it’s not getting too bad out there.”

“No, not so far,” Lindsay replied with a small smile. “Where’s Finlay?”

“Taking a nap. I figured we could get Gus done first. Fin should be awake by the time we’re done with Gus. Do you mind?” He gestured to the little boy. “Then you can take your coat off.”

“Thanks.” 

“Hey, little guy.” Justin carefully picked up the little boy, then plucked off his hat and dropped it on the coffee table. He laid Gus on the couch and set about getting him out of his baby snowsuit. “You are such a good baby, you know that? Never fussy, never crying. At least not without a good reason.” He set the suit aside, then slid his fingers under his little shirt and began lightly tickling him. As the baby giggled, Justin smiled and murmured, “So like your daddy. He’s ticklish, too.”

“You’re good with him,” Lindsay said quietly.

“I just like kids. Always have.” He carefully picked Gus up and cradled his small body against his chest. “I’ll show you our office—slash—studio. It’s upstairs.” He prepared to hand Gus back to Lindsay, but she shook her head and smiled.

“Lead the way.” 

“You still haven’t seen the second floor, have you?” Justin asked, once they reached the top of the stairs. “Come on, I’ll show you around.” He rubbed circles on Gus’s back as he led Lindsay down the short hallway toward the kids’ rooms.

“This is for Gus?” The surprise was evident in her voice as she looked around the room, taking in the mural on the wall and the crib in the corner.

“Yeah. He needs his own room. I mean, we know we don’t have any rights to him or anything, but Brian still wants to spend time with him. So he needs his own room here. Just in case.” Gus began wiggling in his arms, so he pressed a light kiss to the boy’s head to calm him. “What do you think, Gus? Do you like your room?” He turned the boy slightly and walked him over to the mural, pointing out Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch. “He didn’t get to see it the last time he was here,” Justin remarked, looking at Lindsay. “He fell asleep when Brian was holding him, and then Brian fell asleep, too, so I left them on the sofa. I got pictures, though.” He smiled, then turned and led her out of the room, through the living room, and down the hall to his studio.

“So here’s what I was thinking,” he began, leading her over to the canvas he had lain on the floor. He had already attached pictures of Brian with Gus and Finlay. “I just want to put the kids’ hand and footprints around it. I don’t want to go overboard, just one set of each from each boy. That’s all. And you know Brian, it’s gotta be tasteful, so I was thinking blue for Finlay and green for Gus.”

“Okay.” She nodded, then laughed quietly. “I never ever imagined anything like this for Brian. Two kids, a partner, celebrating the holidays. . . . What do you need me to do?”

“Um, let’s see . . . first things first, I think we should get Gus out of these clothes so they don’t get ruined. He’s probably gonna need a bath after this, anyway.”

“Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“No,” he replied, walking over to the couch and beginning to undress Gus. “But it should be fun.” He tickled the boy’s exposed stomach again. “Right, Gus? You wanna play with the paint, don’t you? Cause you’re not afraid of a little mess. That’s something you and your daddy _don’t_ have in common.” He leaned forward and placed a loud kiss on Gus’s cheek, and the little boy erupted into another fit of giggles.

 

Justin paced back and forth in front of the large living room window, his thumb between his lips as he chewed on the nail. There were only three days to go before Christmas and he still hadn’t found anything for Brian or the girls. He wasn’t really too worried about finding Mel and Lindsay something, knowing that they’d be happy with just about anything. But what could he possibly get Brian? The man already seemed to have everything he could ever want. 

“Will you fucking stop it?” Brian asked from his spot on the sofa, setting his copy of _Ulysses_ on his stomach. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep this up. Not to mention you’ll have a stub for a thumb. And I’m really not into guys with stubs.”

“It’s just . . . Christmas is coming in, like, three days.”

“Yes, I know. Remember, you made me buy that hideous tree the other day? Thank God it’s downstairs.”

“It’s not hideous. And you like it. You just don’t want to admit that you do,” he replied, continuing to pace.

“Christ, just tell me what the fucking problem is so you can stop making me dizzy.”

“Fuck! Fine. I have absolutely no fucking idea what to get you for Christmas!”

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean, that’s it? It’s our first Christmas together, and I want to get you something that you’ll actually like, but you already have everything, and I don’t trust myself to buy you clothes, because I’d probably end up getting you something that was a polyester blend or something and you’d hate it, and you don’t like my taste in clothes anyway, and I just want Christmas to be perfect and if I can’t figure out what to get you then it won’t be.”

“Ugh, you’re so aggravating sometimes.” He sat up and set his book on the coffee table. “Go get Finlay dressed and pack his bag. We’re going shopping.”

“What?”

“We’re going shopping. We’ll find something for each of us. Then we’ll be done with this Christmas-shopping mess, okay?”

“But then, how is it supposed to be a surprise?”

“I don’t care if it’s a surprise. Surprises are overrated, anyway. At least this way we get what we want. So, go get our kid. I’ll call Daphne and see if we can drop him off with her for a couple hours.”

“But—.”

“Go. It’ll ruin Christmas more if you worry about this for the next three days.” Brian looked at him pointedly, waiting until Justin left the room before he laughed quietly and picked up the phone.

 

Justin stood in an upscale jewelry store, his eyes scanning the selection of women’s rings. They still hadn’t gotten anything for Mel and Lindsay, and he hadn’t really even considered jewelry until he’d stepped into the store. At first he’d thought maybe a tennis bracelet or necklace would be nice, but he found himself drawn to the rings.

“Can I help you?”

“Um, yeah.” He glanced up into the face of a tired-looking man, who appeared to be sizing up his spending capabilities. “I was just wondering . . . there’s a specific type of ring I’m looking for. My mother has one, with my sister’s and my birthstones on it.”

“Yes, a mother’s ring. We have those.” He tapped the glass over the selection of rings.

“Great.” He looked up, noticing Brian looking in a case a few yards away. “Brian? Come here a second.” 

“Hm?” 

“What do think of getting Mel and Lindsay mother’s rings? You know, with Gus’s birthstone on them?”

“That would be perfect, actually.” He smiled at the younger man and placed a warm hand on the back of his neck. “They should probably be gold, though, since their wedding rings are gold.”

“How about this one?” Justin pointed to a simple gold band with an inlaid stone. “There’s room to add more stones.”

“Sounds good. I don’t know what size they wear.” He looked at the salesman. “We’re planning on these being gifts. Could they be resized, if necessary?”

“Of course.”

“Great,” Justin replied with a smile. “Um, so we’ll take two, size six, just in case, with a single sapphire in each one.” He watched Brian as the older man wandered back over to the case he had been looking at. As the salesman disappeared into the back of the store, Justin found his way over to his partner. “What’re you looking at?”

“I found what I want.” 

 

Holding Brian’s left hand in his, he slowly slid the platinum band into place. Then he looked up at Brian and smiled. The taller man returned the smile, and repeated the gesture so that Justin’s left hand was similarly adorned. When Justin released his hand, he reached forward and gently cupped the side of his face, letting his thumb brush lightly over the younger man’s pale skin.

“I now pronounce you married. You may kiss your partner,” Reverend Tom said quietly, a small smile decorating his lips.

Brian wrapped his arms around Justin’s waist, pulling him closer, and let his tongue trace his lips for a moment, before delving inside. As the kiss ended, Brian pressed his forehead against Justin’s. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He linked his fingers with Brian’s and pressed another quick kiss to his husband’s lips.

 

“I can’t believe we did it,” Justin said with a laugh, as he wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck and hopped onto his back, his legs wrapping around the taller man’s waist. “I can’t believe Tom agreed to perform the ceremony.”

“Well, he told me once that he thought fags should be able to get married. The least he could do was perform a clandestine ceremony.” Brian opened the door of their home. “Christ, I never thought I’d be carrying someone over the threshold. And certainly not on my back.”

“Hm, well, if you want me on my back, you have to carry me over the threshold on yours.”

“Fair enough.”

“We should call Daph,” Justin said, as he unwrapped his legs from Brian’s waist, letting his feet once again touch the floor. “See if she can keep Finlay for the rest of the night.” He smiled and turned so that he was facing Brain. “This was just so spur-of-the-moment, you know? One minute we’re shopping, the next we’re getting married.”

“Yeah.” He wrapped his arms around the younger man, then leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Happy?”

“Mm, very.”

“Me, too. Go call Daph so we can get this wedding night underway. While you’re doing that, I’m gonna change the message on the machine. We have two whole days before we have to see anyone, and I intend to take advantage of them.” He let his hand drift lightly over Justin’s jean-clad ass, then made his way toward the stairs.

 

No one had ever made him feel both ice cold and as if he were on fire at the same time. He had been with countless men, and not one had had this effect. Opening his eyes, he looked at the blonde hair cascading over his lover’s eyes. Reaching down, he wove his fingers through the soft locks. With his free hand, he reached into the bowl on the nightstand and retrieved a condom. He gripped the foil packet tightly as he groaned and arched off the bed. He loosened his grip on the younger man’s hair and watched through half-closed eyes as Justin slid up his chest until their lips were inches apart. Then the blonde leaned close and kissed him, letting Brian taste himself.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Brian replied. He reached for his left hand and placed a light kiss on the platinum ring encircling his finger. Then he smiled and pressed a foil package into his palm. “Finish what you started, baby.”

 

Brian rolled over and looked at his husband. Such a common term; one he never thought would matter to him. But now he had a husband; hell, he _was_ a husband. His eyes drifted over the younger man’s features, the long lashes, the slope of his nose, the way the end was slightly upturned, the full lips that were both soft and demanding. Leaning forward, he nuzzled against Justin’s neck, then began trailing kisses from collarbone to jaw and back again until the younger man began to stir.

“Mm, what time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Daph.” His eyes opened the merest sliver.

“Yeah, I’ll go down and wait for her.” He pressed a kiss to Justin’s lips, then stood and pulled on a pair of jeans. He quickly washed his face, brushed his teeth, and ran his fingers through his hair before heading down the two flights of stairs to the first floor of their home.

Ten minutes later he stood in the kitchen, coffee brewing, a knife in his hand as he sliced apples, oranges, and bananas and tossed them into a large bowl. He had just placed the knife and cutting board in the dishwasher when he felt two arms wrap around him from behind.

“Thought you were gonna stay in bed?” He turned around and looked into Justin’s sleepy eyes. The younger man was dressed in his blue plaid flannel pajama pants and a tight white tee shirt.

“Mm, I was. But I couldn’t get back to sleep without you there.”

“Since when?”

“Must be a new phenomenon.” He smiled, then leaned forward for a quick kiss before pulling back and eyeing the coffeepot. “Please tell me that’s almost done.”

“Yeah, another minute or two.” He slid away from Justin’s embrace, then reached for the bowl of fruit. “Here, having something to eat. You must be starving.”

“Yeah. I wonder why? Christ, I ache all over.”

“And you’re how old?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow, as the doorbell sounded. “I’ll give you a massage later. I promise.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna hold you to that.” He followed the taller man into the living room, carrying the bowl of fruit as he went, then set it on the coffee table and sunk gratefully onto the sofa. “A massage has definite possibilities.” 

“Yeah, it does.” Brian grinned, then opened the door, listening to Daphne as she trudged up the stairs. “Why didn’t you take the elevator?” His eyes drifted over Finlay, held securely against her chest, and the diaper bag and car seat dangling from the bend of her elbow. 

“Because it’s only one floor and I don’t need my ass to get any bigger than it already is.”

“Still, there’s something to be said for a big ass.”

“If our kid wasn’t here, I’d so throw one of these bananas at you,” Justin chipped in from the sofa. 

“What? I like your ass. It’s not like I said you had a _fat_ ass.”

“Okay, guys, enough about Justin’s ass. Take your kid.” She nodded toward Finlay. “So what the hell was going on yesterday? I thought you were just going shopping for a couple hours?”

“Yeah, we did,” Brian replied, scooping Finlay from her arms and holding him against his bare chest. 

“So why do the two of you look exhausted?”

“We went jewelry shopping.”

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Her eyes searched Brian’s smiling face as he turned to look at his partner.

“You’ve lost your mind, blondie, you know that? Sleep deprivation makes you giddy.” Brian crossed the short distance between the door and the sofa and dropped the baby onto his father’s lap, then pressed a quick kiss to his husband’s lips.

“That’s entirely your fault. Any other Christmas present and we would have been well-rested. But nnnoooooo.”

“And you’re complaining?” He grinned at the younger man.

“Nope,” he replied, popping an orange slice into his mouth. “Never going to complain about that.” He smiled at Daphne, then held up his left hand to show her the gleaming platinum band encircling his finger. “We got married. Started out shopping, ended up saying ‘I do.’”

“You’re kidding!” Her eyes shifted back and forth between the two men before finally settling on Brian.

“He has a strange influence on me, what can I say?” Brian replied. “And thanks again for keeping Fin for the night.” He watched with amusement as the girl studied the ring that adorned his own left ring finger. 

“Um, sure. So, like, how . . .”

“The minister from my mom’s church.”

“How the hell did you manage to get a minister to perform it?”

“Brian fucked him and the guy was grateful,” Justin replied with a grin. “Sometimes it’s all about who you fuck.”

“Oh, come on, it was before we even met. And it’s not like you didn’t already know that. You can’t honestly hold that against me.”

“No, but the situation is somewhat funny.” 

“Okay, you know what? You’re both insane. So I’m gonna go, so you can get back to your little honeymoon and spend your day fucking each other silly. Or maybe I should say, _sillier,_ cause Justin’s clearly gone round the bend already.” She crossed over to Justin, then planted a kiss on his cheek. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Daph,” he whispered, wrapping his free arm around her in a quick hug. He lightly kissed her cheek, then released her.

“Congratulations, Brian.” She quickly hugged him as well.

“Thanks.” He kissed her cheek, then cocked his head to the side and studied her for a moment. “Can you do us a favor? Keep this to yourself until Christmas. We just kind of want today and most of tomorrow to ourselves.”

“Of course. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Papa!” Finlay called, bouncing up and down on Justin’s lap. Smiling, Brian shut the door behind Daphne, set the alarm, and turned back to his husband and son, his eyes immediately drawn to the platinum band on Justin’s finger as their son spotted it and began trying to pull it off. Apparently the little boy had found a new toy to hold his attention.

 

Justin wove his fingers through his husband’s hair as the older man nipped at the skin surrounding his belly button. They had spent every available opportunity in the past two days making love and now, early Christmas Eve morning, while Finlay slept, they found themselves in the shower, the hot spikes of water dancing around them.

He placed his hands at the sides of Brian’s face, smiling at the glimmer of his wedding ring and the way the smooth metal shone against Brian’s tan skin, and guided his lover’s mouth back to his. The taller man pushed him gently through the shower’s spray until his back came in contact with the shower tiles, the water cascading down Brian’s back.

“Mm, Bri.”

“Yeah?” The word was spoken softly, barely more than a whisper, against his ear.

“We’re never gonna get clean.”

“Clean is over-rated.”

“It is if you don’t have four hours worth of come all over you. But as that’s not the case, we need to actually shower.” He pressed a quick kiss to Brian’s shoulder and reached for the soap. He ran the bar lightly over Brian’s chest, his eyebrows knitting together as he studied the movements of his hands, and the ring on his finger.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” Shifting his gaze, he allowed his blue eyes to focus on Brian’s hazel ones. “It’s just . . . our getting married . . . it’s so sudden. I was hoping you’d want to one day, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon. I’m glad it was, obviously, because that’s pretty much what I’ve wanted since the day I met you. But. . . .”

“It’s okay, whatever you want to say, it’s okay.” Brian raised his left hand, allowing Justin’s eyes to graze his own ring as his fingers found his golden locks and pushed his hair from his forehead.

“What are we going to tell everyone? They’re all going to wonder what the rings mean—.”

“Although that should be obvious.”

“—and I know it’s going to bother some of them, especially Michael. Because even though he says he’s willing to try and get along with me, he’s still in love with you. He’s not going to just give up.”

“He’s not in love with me. I think we can safely say he’s in lust. That’s it.”

“But to him, it’s love. That’s all I’m saying. It’s like . . . for as long as he’s known you you’ve professed to hate the idea of love, of marriage, of family. And now . . . you have all of that, all of what he wanted and knew he couldn’t have because you didn’t believe in any of it, but now it’s obvious that you _do_ believe in it, wanted it, even, and sought it out, just . . . not with him.”

“We’re not going to explain anything to any of them. If they ask, they’ll get an answer, but we don’t have to justify to them our decision to get married. We’re entitled to a life of our own. Whether that includes Mikey or not is up to him. I’ve made my choice. He’s my friend, but he’s not my best friend, as much as he’d like to think he is. Maybe at one point in time he was, but,” he said, taking Justin’s hand in his, then kissing first the wide silver cuff bracelet, and then the wedding band, “not anymore. A man’s husband should be his best friend. Not the other way around.” He wrapped his free arm around Justin’s waist, pulled the shorter man flush against him, and captured his lips as the hot water continued to rain down around them.

 

Deb had gone to insane levels of tackiness in home décor as Christmas approached. While Brian might have understood it when he and Mikey had been kids, now that the two men were approaching thirty, it seemed a little overdone.

“Please tell me that when we’re Deb’s age we will _not_ do this to our home?” Justin asked, climbing out of the Jeep, then reaching in back to get Finlay.

“If I ever suggest we do this, you have my blessings when it comes to checking me into the loony bin,” Brian deadpanned as he grabbed the diaper bag and playpen.

They had just stepped onto the porch when the front door swung open, the light from the room illuminating Vic, who was dressed in a bright red sweater with a large appliquéd Christmas tree complete with bulbs that lit up.

“Deb made me wear it. I’m fucking lucky I don’t have a pacemaker or I’d be dead by now,” he deadpanned, before grinning and reaching for Finlay. “Hey there, little guy. Long time, no see.” He smiled at Justin. “He’s gotten so big since the last time I saw him.”

“Yeah, he’s growing like a weed.”

“Well, let’s just hope he keeps growing up and not out,” Brian remarked, unzipping his leather coat and hanging in on the rack by the front door, then taking Justin’s from the younger man’s outstretched hand and adding it on top of his own. “He definitely has your appetite.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’m sure he’ll inherit your obsessive need for exercise,” Justin quipped, driving his tongue into his cheek as he mocked Brian’s trademark smirk.

Brian grinned, then snaked his right hand into Justin’s hair, pulling the younger man close and plundering his lips, his left hand resting against Justin’s hip. The younger man’s hands automatically made their way to Brian’s cheeks. After a moment, Brain pulled back and rolled his lips into his mouth, smiling slightly at his husband’s confused look as he did so. “Mistletoe.” His eyes shifted skyward, directing Justin to look up at the small piece of greenery tacked to the ceiling.

Reaching up, Brian scrubbed his fingers through his hair, jumping slightly when Vic, after having handed Finlay back to Justin so that the other man could remove his son’s coat, caught his left arm and peered intently at his left hand. Then his watery gray eyes shifted toward Justin, where he spotted the identical ring.

“So,” he said softly, watching Brian as the man nervously chewed on the inside of his lips, “I guess Christmas came a little early for you this year.” He smiled at the taller man, his eyes searching the younger man’s face. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Vic.” He lightly clapped the older man, the only true father-figure he’d ever had, on the shoulder before turning and making his way over to Justin and Finlay. Justin was holding the child’s hands in his own while he walked from the small entryway into the living room. Brian made his way into the living room and sat at the opposite end of the couch from Emmett, smiling as he watched Finlay explore the room. 

After a moment, sure that he was steady, Justin released Finlay and allowed the child to investigate the room himself. After a few halting steps, the little boy made his way to Brian, wrapping his arms around the man’s legs for support.

“Papa! Up!”

“Sure thing, little guy.” Brian picked up his son and held him over his head, slowly turning him until the boy’s giggles filled the room. Then he set the boy on his lap. “Any idea when the munchers are supposed to be here?”

“Mun!”

“If he says that around them you’re taking the blame.” Justin grinned and folded his arms over his chest. “I’m too sweet and innocent to teach our son to call his brother’s moms ‘munchers.’”

“Hm, sweet? Last time I checked you were a tad salty.”

“I’ve always preferred salty to sweet,” Emmett remarked with a grin as he wiggled his eyebrows at Justin.

“Fuck off, Emmett.” He looked over at Debbie, now standing in the entryway to the kitchen. “So when’s everyone else getting here?”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Brian. Hi, Justin.”

“Hey, Debbie,” he replied, casting a small smile at her.

“Mel and Lindz will be here in half an hour, they just called. Ted is spending the holidays with his mother. And Michael is—.”

“Brian!” The screech made them all jump, and was quickly followed by the thunderous sound of sneaker-clad feet running down the stairs. “I just saw the Jeep! Look!” He thrust an old comic into Brian’s face. _“Captain Astro #3,_ you know, the one where Captain Astro and Galaxy Lad share their one and only kiss.”

“Yeah, Mikey, that’s great.” He used his free hand to flip through the comic, then handed it back to Michael, his hand returning to it’s former position on Finlay’s stomach. He tugged down the little blue sweater that had managed to creep up and watched as Michael dropped the comic onto the coffee table. “So what are you doing with all those comics? You must have at least a thousand of them by now.” He stood and set Finlay on his feet, letting the little boy walk some more.

Michael tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve more than just about anyone he’d ever known, and the level of excitement and expectation on the other man’s face nearly paralleled the look he had when the two had, as teenagers, found themselves hard at seeing a shirtless Patrick Swayze.

“What do you mean, ‘What am I going to do with them?’ I categorize them, I read them. What else am I supposed to do with them?” He placed his hands on his hips and stared at Brian as he led Finlay over to Justin.

“I don’t know. I mean, I know how much you love them. But maybe . . . I don’t know, you could sell them, maybe open up a comic book store or something.” Once Justin had their son’s hands gently gripped in his own, Brian turned and looked at Michael. “That was always the best part about the comic book hunt, anyway . . . just hanging out at Buzzy’s, checking out the guys who’d come in.”

“But _Captain Astro_ has overriding gay themes in almost every issue! It’s an essential part of gay pop culture! There’s no other comic like it!”

“True.”

“Maybe you could start your own comic,” Justin remarked quietly as he leaned his shoulder against Brian’s. “Have your very own obviously gay superhero.” He lifted Finlay into his arms, freeing up his left hand when it became obvious that the boy wanted to try and pull his ring off again. “Sort of a gay lothario by day, out to save the world by night. It could be fun.”

“Comics cost a fortune in startup costs, Boy Wonder.”

“Hence the necessity of selling some of the comics you already have,” Brian remarked, as the door opened and Mel and Lindz stepped inside, brushing snow from their shoulders as they did so.

“Down!”

Justin smirked and looked at his son. “You wanna get down?”

“Down!”

“Okay.” He set the little boy down, then held onto his hands until he was steady on his feet before carefully letting go. A smile came to his lips as he watched Finlay make his way over to Vic, then wrap his arms around his legs.

“Up!”

“Speaking of lotharios,” the older man remarked as he lifted the little boy onto his lap. “The two of you had better be careful—this one’s going to be quite the magnet when he’s a teenager.”

“Yeah, I know,” Justin remarked with a rueful grin. “I’m really not looking forward to that.”

“Hey, I’ll make sure he has a supply of condoms. Nothing to worry about,” Brian chipped in as Lindsay handed him Gus so she could take off her coat. 

“Oh, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear, thank you.” He rolled his eyes at his husband at the exact moment he heard Mel exclaim, “Holy shit!”

“What?” Debbie asked.

“Is that . . . oh my God!” Lindsay exclaimed a second later, having grabbed Justin’s left hand. “Is that platinum?”

“When?” the petite brunette demanded. “And why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

“Three days ago, it was all spur-of-the-moment, and we wanted some time to ourselves,” Justin replied with a small smile as he glanced down at his ring.

“Brian? What’s going on?” Michael asked. His eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched up in the way that it often did when he was frustrated or upset.

“Justin and I got married.” He smiled and flashed his ring. He was actually surprised that it took so long for anyone to notice but, he figured, leave it to the women to zero in on the precious metals. Smiling, he handed Gus to Mel, then slid his hand to the back of Justin’s neck, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“What!” Debbie screeched. “No way in Hell did you two get married!”

“Oh, baby, I’m so happy for you!” Emmett jumped up from the chair he had perched on and immediately enveloped Justin in a hug. “Details! I want details!”

“Um, Emmett? Let go of him or you won’t even have your balls.”

“Possessive, aren’t you?”

“Brian, you can’t be serious!” Michael stood and walked over to his friend, his eyes blazing. “You don’t even fucking believe in marriage.”

“I’m not the same person I was a year ago, Michael. I thought you understood that.”

“But it’s not even fucking legal.”

“A lot of those that are legal are done for money, or they’re done in Vegas after all-night drinking binges and annulled two days later. Those might be legal, but they’re not real.” Brian lowered his arms and slipped them around Justin’s waist, his chin coming to rest on his shoulder.

“The symbolism is what makes a marriage real,” Justin remarked, leaning back against Brian, his smile growing wider as Brian pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Okay, enough with the shock and awe. I’m with Emmett. I want details,” Vic asked, as Finlay leaned back against him and popped his thumb in his mouth, seemingly content with watching the activities of the adults.

“Yeah, details would be nice,” Lindsay echoed, giving Justin a smile.

“Well, you can tell them over dinner,” Deb said quietly, her eyes focused on the crest-fallen look on her son’s face. “Come on, I don’t want everything getting cold.”

 

Justin wasn’t quite sure how it all happened. His mind was a blur, but he distinctly remembered, as he had Brian pressed up against the wall under a sprig of mistletoe, hearing a shout, then a hit, and then Finlay screaming. He’d whipped around to see Finlay sitting on the floor screaming, his face red and tears coursing down his cheeks, his hand rapidly turning red, and Michael standing a few feet away holding his comic book, the cover now ripped. 

He had rushed over to his son, Brian close behind him, and carefully picked the boy up, glaring at Michael over the top of the child’s head. Everyone else had seemed frozen in shock. 

“Hey, Fin, let me see your hand,” Brian had said softly, his fingers gently tracing the little boy’s fingers. He was alarmed at how red his son’s hand was, but as he gently folded each finger it seemed nothing had been broken. He’d carefully released the boy’s hand, then let his right hand fall to Justin’s lower back while his left hand joined his husband’s in rubbing their son’s back in an effort to calm him down.

“Lindsay? Will you take the kids upstairs?” Justin’s eyes had searched her face for a moment, silently pleading with her to do as he asked. “And shut the door. They don’t need to hear this.”

“Of course.” She had carefully extracted Finlay from his father’s arms, slightly surprised at the way the little boy clung to her. Then she had glanced at Mel and the two of them had carried the children upstairs. 

Justin then returned his ice blue gaze to Michael. As he heard the door close he reached forward, his left hand, now his strongest, grasping Michael by the front of the shirt. He had pushed the man harshly against the sharp corner of the banister, taking no small amount of delight in the sharp gasp of pain the other man issued. 

“I’m a pretty patient man, Michael. I really am.” He pushed Michael a bit harder into the banister so that the man gasped again. “But the moment you lay a finger on my son is the moment I lose my patience.” He pulled Michael forward again, then slammed him into the banister with the greatest force yet, watching as tears began to gather in his eyes. “What the fuck were you thinking hitting him?” He raised his right arm and pushed his elbow into the older man’s ribcage, momentarily cutting off his air. “Stay the fuck away from my son or so help me God, I will fucking kill you!” He had then pulled Michael away from the banister and thrown him onto the couch.

Brian had stepped behind his husband and placed his hand on the back of his neck. “Go upstairs and sit with Fin for a few minutes. He needs you. I’ll come up when I’m done down here.” He watched as the younger man nodded, then turned and made his way up the stairs. Once he had disappeared from view, Brian turned on Michael.

“Would you care to explain what just happened?” he asked quietly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“If that fucking little twat would watch his kid instead of letting him get into things and destroy people’s property nothing would have happened!” Michael insisted, standing and facing Brian, seemingly oblivious to the disdainful looks everyone, his mother included, aimed in his direction.

“That ‘fucking little twat’ is my husband, Michael, and his kid is my kid, and it’ll be a cold day in Hell before I stand by and let you abuse my son. Christ, Michael, it’s a fucking comic book! It can be replaced! My son’s sense of safety can’t be replaced quite so easily.”

“You’re fucking acting like I beat him or something!”

“Who would know better than me? How the fuck do you think Jack started out? He didn’t break out the belt until I was eight. It started with slapping and hitting, and then it became punching, and getting hit with a belt and getting thrown down flights of stairs. You know that! So how the fuck could you do that to my son?”

“He’s not even really your son, Brian!”

“Yeah, he is. The adoption came through on Friday. So he most definitely is my son. But, regardless, you don’t fucking hit a kid. You know better than that! If this is because you’re pissed at me for marrying Justin, then take it out on me and not a defenseless little boy who can barely walk.” He grabbed Michael’s shirt and pulled him close, until their faces were inches apart. “Now, I’m going to go upstairs and see to my family. Which, by the way, you are no longer a part of.” Then he turned and went up the stairs, leaving his former friend to stare at his retreating form. He had always thought that if his friendship with Mikey ever came to an end, though in all honesty, he really couldn’t imagine it, that he would be sad. And he was sure that, during the next few days, he probably would be. But as he had climbed the stairs, all he felt for the man was an overwhelming sense of disgust.

 

Brian stood behind his husband, his arms wrapped around the shorter man’s waist, as they watched their son sleep. By the time they had returned home Finlay’s hand was back to normal and his good mood seemed to have returned. Both men were thankful for that. 

Justin looked over his shoulder at the older man, then smiled. He slipped out of his embrace, then wove their fingers together and led Brian out of their son’s room, turning off the light as he went. Then he turned off the living room light and guided Brian up the stairs and toward the bed.

“He’s okay, you know,” he said quietly, beginning to unbutton the older man’s shirt. “He’s young enough that he’ll forget anything ever happened.”

“I know.” Brian slipped his hands under Justin’s light blue tee shirt, letting the pads of his fingers dance along the soft skin he found there, then pressing his hands flat against the younger man’s back so that he could feel the warm metal of both his bracelet and his ring.

“Our son is not going to grow up like you did. We’ll keep that from happening.” He slid the shirt from Brian’s shoulders and let it pool on the floor at the foot of the bed, then placed a kiss just above his husband’s left nipple. “We’ll protect him. Like we did tonight. Can’t always prevent things,” he said, reaching for Brian’s belt, “but we can keep them from happening a second time.” He pushed the taller man back onto the bed and pulled off his jeans, dropping them on top of his shirt. “As long as we’re here for him, he’ll be okay.” He pulled off his shirt. “Cause we’re his family, and he’s counting on us.” He removed his own jeans and added them to the growing pile. “And we love him.” Then he slid between Brian’s legs, up his body, and caught his lips in a searing kiss.

 

There was a moment, right before he came, where he couldn’t hear anything, and couldn’t see anything. All he could do was feel. He could feel the smoothness of the sheets below him, their coolness having long ago given way to a searing heat. He could feel Brian’s sweat as it dripped on his chest and mixed with his own. He could feel Brian’s lips as they captured his, stealing that last bit of his breath. He could feel Brian moving against him, within him, the friction further warming him. Then suddenly his hearing would return and his vision would clear, and he would arch his back one last time before they both came.


End file.
